a lot of interpretations of the dark academia aesthetic can come off as kind of exclusive, so as someone with adhd, i present to you: dark acadhdemia
a messy room that looks like a tornado came through, tried on every coat, scarf, and sweater, and scattered them all about again. the only thing the mess hasn’t touched is the immaculate desk, which looks like it gets more use than the bed.
notes written on papers and hands, up margins and arms, organized in a system that would make no sense to anyone else.
the rush of hyperfocus dying down as you finish the final chapter and realize how late it’s gotten, shouldn’t you be in bed by now?
your mind is racing and you can’t sleep tonight. maybe you sneak out the back door to look at the stars, because they look as scattered as your thoughts. maybe you sit inside, turn on the last light on the block, and put every incoherent idea in ink on paper to decipher in the morning.
somehow your notes have turned into scribbles, little doodles of the elegant eyes of the girl sitting across from you, the crooked nose of the boy three seats down, your best friend’s smile as they catch the subtle joke the teacher just cracked, the teacher’s graceful hand on the chalkboard, and suddenly you remember that you’re in class.
you could have read faster, but that one line just stuck in your head and your heart so strongly that you had to read it over and over again, underline it, and note it in the margin. on the next page, you fall in love with another turn of phrase, and then another, and then… such is the peril of a good book.
it’s getting late, and you find yourself gazing into the flame of your candle, an incomplete essay on the desk. you don’t think you could possibly finish it; you’re already toeing the word limit, but there’s just so much more to write.
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
stormborns
jacobvanloon
annaxmalina
jbbartram-illu
