god forbid a woman doesn’t sparkle for an audience. god forbid she’s weird, lazy, a little off putting and not trying to impress anyone
DEAR READER

Kaledo Art

if i look back, i am lost
Game of Thrones Daily

pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Monterey Bay Aquarium
cherry valley forever

titsay

#extradirty
AnasAbdin
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oozey mess
NASA
RMH
Keni

tannertan36

blake kathryn
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@ilyuidiot
god forbid a woman doesn’t sparkle for an audience. god forbid she’s weird, lazy, a little off putting and not trying to impress anyone
fall ‘25: trench coat buttoned to the top, unread barthes on nightstand, stepping on crunchy leaves, people who look like mistakes you’d make again, long walks just to overthink better, black turtlenecks, moleskine full of unfinished revelations, charm laced with disinterest, soup
happy 1st of october now where's the anne of green gables quote
anne you were so real ever since the 1900s
libraries were literally created for lonely little girls who would then go on to become lonely fully grown women btw
— joy sullivan
In honor of it being autumn
going back to school, cold mornings and shorter evenings, golden leaves and blustery walks, scarves and tights, everything cinnamon, apple and spice, maroon, burgundy and forest green, knitwear, loafers and trecnhcoats, another season beginning and the feeling that it'll all work out.
finals week aesthetic
raucous 2am conversations with classmates you've come to see as friends
giggling over your latest cup of coffee, dark circles under your eyes
the sense of pride that only comes from hard work
upbeat music playing through your headphones
papers splayed across your floor, covered in notes and highlighter marks
the instant of silence right before an exam begins
timed essay questions, racing to get your thoughts down on paper
cozy sweatpants and your comfiest sweater
the bluish glow of a vending machine at midnight
settling in at your favorite desk in the library
google searches that get more nonsensical as the night goes on
study guides and flashcards, the culmination of all you've learned
the rush of hitting submit on your final assignment
idk I just personally think that getting chills from music is the best part of being alive. like when a song is so good you can feel it in your whole body. that's why I'm here.
tranquil mornings, farmers market peaches, divine timing, iced espresso, silk dresses, the glow of natural oils and sun, handpicked blooms, warmth only God can give.
obsessed with mass market paperbacks. their pleasing rectangular proportions. how they fit badly in a hoodie pocket so you can drag them around everywhere with you like a temporary little buddy. the way they fit in your hand because they're MADE for human hands and not as bookshelf decoration. the way the pages feel when you riffle them gently with your thumb. How pristine and crisp they look when you get them and how creased and folded they look when you're done, even if you try to be nice to them. how that wear is okay, how that's correct actually, because they're made with the philosophy that books aren't meant to be PRETTY, they're meant to be read. that little ripple new ones get on the left side from where you hold them when you're reading, the way the ripple only goes as far as you've read, because u change stories by reading as they are changing you. how you can find thousands of these creased and folded and loved little dudes in every thrift store and used book shop and neighborhood library and you can instantly see the ones that someone carried around in a backpack for weeks or read to pieces or gave up on halfway through because they wear being read like fresh snow wears footprints. I love these poorly made, subpar little rectangles so much. truly the people's books.
as a true yearner I could be working 60 hours a week and have 100 hobbies and still crave love you just wouldn’t get it
propaganda i am not falling for:
always moving on. some goodbyes need to rot a little. some griefs need to be held in the mouth like a stone.
beauty defined by algorithms. beauty exists in crow feet and smile lines
pretending to be chill. i’m not chill. i care deeply and inconveniently. i read into things. i write poems about eye contact
beige apartments with no soul. give me bookshelves and incense and loud art
sneaky links and unclear intentions. i want devotion. and also clarity
treating books as decor. read them. dog-ear them. argue with them in the margins
current hobby: missing autumn