Light Academia - Blog Posts
i didn’t realise how much i would love sixth form at a college especially at one where i didn’t think i would ever go.
i also didn’t think english literature would overtake history as my favourite but it has and i am loving it so much! my english teacher is like one from the films! she just wants us to explore everything we can in poems it doesn’t matter what it is she just wants us to really get them! i’m just letting all of weird ideas about them go and she’s like “amazing! i love it!” aaaggh
why didn’t anyone tell me how good english teachers could be ????
(also it’s my 17th birthday today!)
an upside i didn’t see coming out of social distancing is the rise in picnic’s among people my age and i personally find that very romantic and sexy
Do i own a violin? Yes
Do i know how to play? No
Did i learn as a child but give it up because “it wasn’t helpful and nobody else played it”? Yes
Do i regret that everyday of my life? Also Yes
I like to know that I've maimed you. Is it sadistic of me to like the thought of you wondering where I am every time you cross a road? I like to know that I've maimed you, ever since you told me anything related to books reminds you of me. I like to know that every time there are scribbles in the margin of an old book, It'll remind you of my handwriting you called unreadable. If you visit The Louvre, my blood remains spilt there too, for the countless number of times I've told you about running away to France. Every time you look at paintings hung up in museums, you'll think of how I painted you our bleeding hearts. Is it sadistic to know you'll think of how I am doing on your thirty second birthday because I jokingly told you how I felt like I wouldn't make it to blow the candles on my thirtieth? Is it sadistic of me to cherish how you'll think of me every time you pick up a book, even when you're covered with sun spots and gray? tell me, would it make you wonder what could've been, if you wrote us just a bit differently? for I know that I've maimed you darling, but is it sadistic of me to not regret it at all?
Was icarus's fall so terrible after all? He would've died with a smile on his face, the sun all beautiful on him, setting him ablaze. Golden boy alight in his fall, golden are our kisses which set me ablaze and my wings burn in all their glory as you sweep my ashes 'neath the rug. The wax stuck to my lashes doesn't seem to scald your skin as much as I'd hoped and it seems fair to give it all up, for just a fleeting moment of your rays spreading across my skin, painting my lips, as if all the gold would hide the red underneath. Icarus must've surely died with a smile on his face, for I know I did in your smoldering embrace.
As I flick through my camera roll, isn't it strange how everything is out of focus but you? How the blood you spilt seems brighter than the blood I shed?
Yes, your heart stopped at 5:05 am. You still have so much time left across the world. Frida kahlo painted flowers so that they would not die, my darling muse, how can I ever accept that you're gone?
You know what. I’m starting a new aesthetic, population me.
Romantic Science, AKA Dark Academia for STEM people.
Thrifting a lab coat and embroidering it with your initials and a little insignia, whose significance is known to you and your lab partner only
Watching The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game and Hidden Figures and basically every movie about historical scientists and mathematicians you can find
Decorating your desk with old slide rules and vintage lab equipment. Your prize possession is a set of vintage lenses you found at a thrift store
Wanting an articulated human skeleton far, far too much
Getting a set of (brand new, NOT thrifted, be safe ppl) beakers to drink from, and putting them directly onto your stovetop to boil water for tea or coffee, because borosilicate glass can survive anything.
Secretly relating far too much to Henry Jekyll and Victor Frankenstein, because you too want to do a gay little science experiment that challenges god.
Thunderstorms and late nights in the lab, the light of the Bunsen burner glistening off of your flasks and scribbled chalkboard equations
Papering your walls with vintage scientific diagrams; even if you know that our understanding of the world has evolved since they were made, looking back at scientific history is amazing
Writing code late at night and feeling, in some metaphysical way, as though Ada Lovelace herself is with you in spirit
Being far, FAR too obsessed with the concept of emergent ai sentience and how it has the potential to be Frankenstein irl
Looking through a telescope on clear nights, whispering the names of the constellations and stars, painting a star chart on your ceiling in a burst of creative inspiration
Collecting and mounting samples from everywhere you can think of to pore over in an antique microscope
Bringing a field journal wherever you go, learning how to draw and label botanical samples, preserving plants and flowers for study later
Dreaming of what undiscovered mysteries lie in the deepest depths of the sea, feeling the thrill of discovery whenever you learn about a new species and one day hoping to discover one yourself
Just. Romanticise STEM.
I try not to fall in love. I really do, because I know that I'll think about them, those things that will make it hard to forget. The curve of his back, the outline of his hips, the way his necklace falls at the base of his neck, the way its only something I can admire when his back is turned, because he likes to tuck his necklaces inside his T-shirt, the matching bracelet hangs off his wrist and sparkles in the light the way his eyes do when morning comes the next day. I have his sleepy smile when I'm the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes, memorized, and his low playful drawl to"take a picture, it'll last longer," before he scoops me up in his arms with the strength of someone who had definitely-been-awake-for-a-while and I'll remember it all. These are the things, the things I'll think of when you're gone, so I try my best not to fall in love.
—Camille Lee, I'll remember everything
He was the first guy, I tried the "talking stage" with. I told him slow, glacially slow, like a candle burning into the late hours of the night, but he didn't hear over his own wants, his own needs. It was part of the reason it was the end of our season, on his way out the door he broke my heart all over and I knew I dodged a bullet when his ego started talking. Suddenly, oh so suddenly, I wasn't worthy of someone like him. Suddenly my beauty was too little and there was something wrong with me, so much for "you're my ideal girl" because now apparently I "wasn't even that pretty" and my version of normal was a problem. The way I was, was a problem. You said if I'm not happy with you, I'll never find a boyfriend. At the mere age of twenty with so much life left to live ahead of me, did you really think that's what I'd believe? The audacity— to try to convince me I wasn't worth loving, if I didn't want to be with you. My only regret is I didn't laugh in your face, so much for the "talking stage."
—Camille Lee, you'll never find a boyfriend
You and I were stranded. Trapped, in the school’s gymnasium. The rain was starting to coming down, it was pouring. There was this hummingbird rhythm in my chest, loud as drums, where you and I lie, side by side, in dark blue skirts and white school shirts, on worn gym mats. The sound compelling, if I let it. Supposedly my feelings lie on some sort of spectrum? All I know is you and I, no matter what, aren't clear cut. I fantasize, or do I fetishize? I'm hoping you don’t realize, I want to kiss between your eyes, and that mine linger on your thighs. Echoes in a empty colosseum, ourselves as our own audience and with no one to witness it. I’m too young to know what I want, young and confused, in a "phase I'll grow out of eventually." Does it mean anything? If your hands linger on my waist? You make a mistake in your haste, kiss the corner of my lips instead of my cheek, before you leave. You giggle, because what else could it possibly mean?
—Camille Lee, her
She's sickenly sweet like honey with her crooked teeth, her breath smells like candy and her pretty stray eyelash, decorates her cheeks. She's a Venus fly trap. She's got stickers in her hair, glitter on her face and paint on her shoes. She gives her heart away like she has nothing to lose. She's the kind to make wishes on dandelions and to believe that when the stars align she can communicate with the divine in her dreams. We drove out to a field, laid under her "special tree" and watched the tall grass sway in the sunlight. It was something out of a movie. Do I want to be her or do I want to be with her? I couldn't pull it apart without leaving behind spider webs of her and I, traces of each other, like perfume clinging to a sweater I haven't worn in months. She's like a dream.
—Camille Lee, dream girl
I'm not religious but I prayed for this, I begged the sky, I pleaded with the earth, the dirt under my fingers, fistfuls in each hand, the grass beneath my feet and the rocks scraping my knees. I implored the planet, the cosmos and the isolating, quiet of the pitch-black backdrop of the abyss, of the universe, of the stars and all that exists far beyond my reach. please, please send me the one, the perfect one, the destined one, my other half, my soulmate, the one to complete me. I don't believe in love at first sight but I still wish to be loved unabashedly. I stumble in my prayer, does such a person even exist? am I incomplete?
—Camille Lee
I'm terrified one day I'll look around and realize for all my platonic love, it isn't enough. For all my friends have paired off like Noah's ark, all over again, one by one, I am but the exception. The lonely outlier, the undesirable creature, alone in the raging storm of living. The one to throw overboard to make space, the easiest at least, because they know there's no one here to miss me. I watch as they gaze into the eyes of their lovers with all the romance I've longed for, talking of the new world and the "rest of their lives together" I'm sick to my stomach but I pass it off as the back and forth rocking of the ark, sea sickness— I send a silent prayer to the sky or to God or to whoever will listen to me I can't possibly be fated to live out my days alone, right?
—Camille Lee
Even if you were hanging off the edge of a cliff, with a white knuckle grip and only me to save you, I will never forgive you. I'd pry each one of your fingers off, the dying olive branch you clung to and I'll never forgive you. The asteroid will hit, wipe out everyone on earth, leaving us as it's last wanderers. The sky will open up and the waves will rise to devour us. The gods from the heavens above will rage and swallow whole this desolate planet. I'd sit next to you through it all, maybe hold your hand as the world ends and I still will never forgive you.
—Camille Lee, I will never forgive you
An old sparkly journal is buried at the bottom of a weathered and worn, old cardboard box. Every other page has an "I ♡ Alex" written in pink ink on it. That girl used count every hand-holding, shoulder-touch, head-pat her first real crush ever gave her and wrote it all down. "He held my hand and rest his head on my shoulder." Fast forward three years and I started a new school, I'm fifteen years old and I reminisce fondly over my younger self's crush, at a party. Everyone around me mistakes my smile as lingering feelings for him, after all, I wasn't very subtle with my feelings back then. They just don't know. Now with older eyes to look back with, I realized something. I was always made of love. Love was never something I had to look for outside of me, it was always within me, I just didn't know it. I am love and love was always made of me.
—Camille Lee, love is what I was always made of
You're too soft, the world will easily devour you whole. You've got no sharp teeth. All dull and rounded, blunt at the edges. You've got no claws, you've got no teeth, no nails to tear into skin. You're just too soft for this world and the wolves will come to eat you alive. They will feast on your soft bits, gobble you and forget your bones where they lay. You're sobbing and no one will listen, but it is said you deserve what's coming. With torn flesh between their teeth and blood spraying from their mouths, they will ask, why didn't you harden when you know you're just too soft for this world?
—Camille Lee, too soft
do you think you can write something using the words iridescent💎 or fractal~🌈✨?" 👀
I closed my eyes as I felt the warm water on my skin, cascading through my hair, down my neck and down my back. I run my palms over my damp hair and I open my eyes to see the way the sunlight catches the water from the showerhead, through the bathroom window. I smile as I think to myself it looks like a mini waterfall, magical, ethereal and otherworldly. Like little tiny fairies should be fluttering around the water that seems to sparkle at this time of day. Iridescent shampoo bubbles dance off the tiled walls and pop. In the stillness and silence, I remember living isn't only in the grand, but also in the quietness of a bath after a long hard day.
—Camille Lee, iridescent shampoo bubbles
Why can't I just be agreeable? I don't want to cause anymore trouble. I don't want to fight this early in the day, I don't to fight, it's too late at night. I've always been this way, it's innate, but I don't choose to be the wave, you need to swim against. I'm so young, I'm so naive, I'm so scared I'll live a life where I'm not happy. I wonder if being authentic and true to me is supposed to feel this heavy.
—Camille Lee, I don't want to fight
I'm a long way from the girl who sat under the mango tree, in the back of the school and listen to cars passing by on the highway after school. She would close her eyes and pretend the sound of the cars on the road were the sound of waves crashing on the shoreline. She had the wildest and most vivid imagination. I look at her now in photos and memories, and I realize, I'm not that kid anymore, I'm not. The magic of the world isn't held in my eyes anymore.
—Camille Lee, 4:30 p.m.
attitude and social cognition~
(i love social psychology sm, def going to take few courses in uni)
early morning geography study session<(￣︶￣)>
why did i think taking entrepreneurship as a subject in CBSE would be a good idea
these notes are the only way i can motivate myself smh
To study hard you need to rest hard sometimes
Today has not been a very productive day but it's okay. We need to be gentle with ourselves more often ^~^
30.04.2025 I turned 18 today. Now if I commit a crime I'll go to jail🥳🥳🥳
Life is so good when you understand (and love) math
My notes for other classes:🌸🎐🪷
My notes for math:💀💣🗡️