10.04.2023

Super bright day and warm, as opposed to me feeling a little bit burnt out.

Frida Kahlo, from a letter wr. c. January 1925, featured in The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas

Red blush pear, with dipping of chilli powder crushed, dried anchovies and a dash of msg (because why not? It's flavorful). Kill bill by SZA circulating in the local radio and the music is quite catchy so I am obsessed.

Also, I think my Digital transformation in business's professor actually remembered me and often hinted for my input. Feeling bit proud of my progress this year.

semester breaks doesn't feels like a semester break, spending the time mostly dwelving deep in academia writting and as usual, high on caffeine to chase deadlines. seems like I am merely studying my lecture material, notes and books, and most of the time, banging my head on the desk for being clueless. ootd using .5 perspective to appear taller since i am quite petite. also, iced cafe latte and matcha cheese cake 🍵💚.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, even in the leafless winter, even in the ashy city. I am thinking now of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots trying to leave the ground, I feel my heart pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.

Mary Oliver, "Starlings in Winter"

:'D and I am actually fond of silver haired character but I am not a guy

new quiz answer these questions and i’ll assign u an anime hair color & gender

Crying

when georges bataille wrote, “no greater desire exists than a wounded person’s need for another wound” & when gillian flynn wrote, “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort” & when ocean vuong wrote, “sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined” & when lisa m. basile wrote, “did you inherit a sickness? did you blame god? do you believe in god? do you believe in yourself? are you still on fire? did you ever put out the fire?” & when stephen a. guirgis wrote, “why didn't you make me good enough so that you could’ve loved me?”

sun

tea, coffee

It is November. The year on its deathbed. I have outlived my body so many times these months. Like wildflowers in concrete, I am trying to grow between the syllables of my name.

✨reblog if you're accepting anonymous asks about anything✨