i am pursuing a PhD. in profound friendships with beautiful women
(Would I succeed? Stay tuned)

I can listen to the sound of someone speaking French while not understanding a word for hours

Sometimes I really envy people who are good at facial expressions.

i would literally give all my blood for the sweetness of your laughter but whatever

No longer accepting calls
Shout my name 3 times infront of the ocean on a full blood moon

"On one hand, I'm like, 'Ugh, I have to pick up garbage all day', and on the other hand, I'm like, 'Look at me in orange."(charity cuz why not)

“Up to you” “you pick” “you decide” idk
How about you just kill me

the urge to say could be us when there is no us

Fuck it! I will do it for the plot

I hate when I wanna talk to a person, but I don’t really have anything to say. but I yearn for the connection. can’t just message someone like, Hiiiiiiiii I have nothing in particular to say but you’re fun and cool and I would like to have a conversation and become friends
*headbutts the wall*

So, that whole 'casual conversation' thing? Was that a test? A sophisticated exercise in manufactured scarcity to gauge my interest level? Honey, let me assure you, I fail that spectacularly. If you're playing hard to get, consider yourself outplayed. I'm not about the subtle art of courtship. If I'm even remotely intrigued, I'll unleash a digital barrage of DMs so relentless, it'll make your phone weep. I'll spam you with existential queries ("What is the meaning of Tuesdays?") and ask you questions so profoundly banal ("What is your favorite color?!") that you'll start questioning the fabric of reality. All it takes is a whiff of your 'I'm so intriguing, I only talk in riddles' pheromones, and I'm reduced to a digital puppy, begging for scraps of your attention. Consider yourself warned. Subtlety? Never heard of her. Restraint? A myth. If you're looking for a challenge, look elsewhere. I'm basically an open book with glitter glue and a megaphone.

It’s just… I get this urge, ya know? To wander down those forgotten streets, the ones where the city sighs and just… gives up. Buildings all hugged by vines, like Sleeping Beauty's castle after she overslept. I’d take a book, but mostly just for company, probably end up tracing the leaves, feeling the rough texture against my fingers. Red scarf’s a must, just a little pop of color against all the grey. And then, just kinda drift, humming some tune that floats into my head, no idea where it came from. Close my eyes, let my imagination go wild, pretend there's something… out there, breathing close. It's like, scaring myself just a little, reminding myself I'm still alive. Mistake my own footsteps for someone else, get that little jolt of… something. It’s nothing big, just… a walk. A way to feel connected to something bigger, maybe. A way to feel… something.

Babe you have a sadness so eternal and grand in your eyes, wanna make out or something?

If you hate someone cause your close friend hates them, I get it. That’s like, super valid.

Yeah, so, about this whole "caring" thing? Total mystery, right? One minute, I'm all zen, blissfully detached, floating above the drama like a goddamn guru. "Meh," I think, "world's gonna world." Then BAM! Suddenly, I'm knee-deep in feelings, drowning in empathy, my heart practically bursting with emotional fireworks. It’s exhausting! I swear, I aspire to indifference. I yearn for the serene apathy of a particularly chill rock🪨. But noooooo. My brain's all, "Feel all the things! Care! Worry! Obsess!" So, yeah, I'm a pathetic empath. A blissful nihilist with a deeply concerned inner monologue. Make sense? No? Me neither.

I feel like I'm trapped, bound to make same mistakes over and over. People say you should learn from you mistakes, yet i feel like I'm the one causing them. What should i learn? I feel trapped in the things i do, i long for something different and new, then i don't have the courage to catch them. I'm stuck in a perpetual machine, going round and round, or like an anchor at the bottom of the sea, never to see the surface again. Where should i go?

“I love the polka dots. It’s cool like you have your own pattern. Why do you hate it? You shouldn’t feel insecure about it.” You said it wasn’t a compliment. You made it seem like you were talking about a character, someone with dots all over her skin. But this time, it was different. It was as if we were watching a movie together, except I was the one you were talking about.
the dots looked powerful to you. And yet, it didn’t feel like a compliment.

Even now, whenever I see them, I still whisper, it looks cool.

It is cool.

Socializing? Nah. My social battery's got, like, three bars, and dropping fast. We're talking critical levels of introvert shutdown imminent. Don't even think about changing the subject, tempting me with bright shiny possibilities. That's just cruel. It's like dangling a carrot in front of a wilting donkey – you ask me to shift gears, and I'm just gonna short-circuit. Code 404. Brain not found. Nope. Time for drastic measures. Reaches dramatically for the metaphorical elixir of life. Gotta resurrect this weary soul, if only to outrun the setting sun and dodge the existential dread of another weekend wasted on the couch. Let the adventure (or at least a moderately energetic grocery run) commence.