reading through my English essays from year 7 is like the equivalent of having everyone you know read through your search history.
Put more simply, I’m cringing like a black hole made out of flesh. Don’t contact me for several work days.
For more context, I began using my half-filled past English textbooks as workbooks for other subjects, and each time I try to flip over to my work, I trip down an obligatory memory lane regarding my regrettable 12-year old kid emo phase.
e.g. “Jingyi, let’s have a chat about this”
💀💀💀
nahhhhhh. HÆIL NAH
besides that.
On behalf of my absence, take this wonderfully French fellow.
il le consume.












