involuntarily found

ah yes what did i cook this time lol

i am tired, and i am tired of being tired, and i am tired of being tiring.

yess hi!

every post is really a challenge to outdo the last one in weirdness

there used to be this lush green field, a massive sky shifting colors but usually always sky-blue, because it had to be the sky after all, with arching dragons and the most graceful little butterflies, there used to be lavender and poppy and of course, cherry blossoms, all thriving strangely in the same habitat but never seeming out of place. whenever she visited it, she could pluck ripe ideas, or brew new tender ones. it is gone now, replaced with medals and important papers, red painted A+ s and excel sheet schedules. the truth is, it's still there, packed into a box, she gently opens it sometimes with curiosity like pandora's, and then closes it soon enough with the excuse of calling it nostalgia

strange, strange little girl. why must you cry over everything? you are not sad, no, you are incredibly grateful, and yet what kind of eulogy is it to offer tears to every memory?

the world is a canvas which reverts to blank
            no matter how many times you try to paint over it

in a way it wouldn't hurt me if i didn't imagine it deeply, but also, how do you read a story without empathy, what is the point?

read first chapter of almond, already traumatised HAHA