📝 ㅤㅤ✆ 2000. page ’s  |  would you still call me overly dramatic if destiny literally handed me this whole moment tied up with pink sparkles? ⭐️🩷

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and all the while, i keep thinking: wow, i’m really doing it. i’m really here, in the city, being cute and chaotic, like the star of my own silly love story except there’s no love interest. it’s just me, falling for myself. [🫑/⭐️/👚]
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by the time the sun sets, the streets glow with neon signs and i’m carrying way too many shopping bags filled with things i absolutely did not need: glitter nail polish, a pink hair clip shaped like a butterfly, and a stack of postcards i plan to send but never will.
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╭ ── Dear Diary, and rant,
                       soul rant's calling 🩷🐝🧁

i head home, change into my pajamas (pink again, shocking), and flop onto my bed. i flip through my magazines one more time, highlight random quotes that feel, and write in my journal: then i close my flip phone, set my playlist to repeat, and drift off to sleep, already imagining what tomorrow’s scene will be.

“dear diary, today new york felt like it was mine. not in a scary landlord way, but in a she’s the main character way. i didn’t meet a boy, i didn’t get discovered, i didn’t even finish my coffee but i felt alive. and that’s enough.”

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