painted nails and perfume.

"one can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar"

                              -helen keller, story of my life   

 (i had to analyze this book for an exam i had a few days ago. its bittersweet)

find happiness in the smallest things. 

like singing along to demi lovato's heart attack and realizing you still remember all the lyrics and can totally belt out that chorus. 

or having a cup of coffee that overshadows all your previous failed attempts.

or getting a shuffle sequence on your playlist where all the best songs play in a row. 

its always the small things. 

purple prose.

"so many large words, as though syllables will hide the truth"
                                                         -sharon mock, she walks in shadows


bless horace for conceptualizing purple prose in ars poetica but i can't say im too fond of the criticism against it though, art is art.
if i wanna draw parallels between the fluttering of eyelashes to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach with a bunch of adjectives thrown into mix, then let me do it.

in practice, i would never but i if i saw a whole paragraph describing the way the old wardrobe in the corner of an unused room creaks open for the first time in years, i'm gonna be immersed in it.

all i'm saying is, maybe there shouldn't be so many rules to things. it's just preference.
does art need gatekeeping?

going haywire.

"come tomorrow, ill wake up new"
           -chad sugg



i've been struggling a lot. i'm caught in quicksand and there's literally no rope strong enough to pull me back.

does that sound angsty? it's not though. i'm struggling because i literally cannot find a rope strong enough to hang some stuff from. not myself, actually, but there are wall hangings i have and every one of the ropes i have used so far have snapped halfway through the night. i don't wanna drill holes into the wall but at the same time, i'm getting real sick of getting woken up by the world map landing on my face.

but if i have to go deeper, i'm getting really worried about myself. i'm not progressing. if anything, i've gone back to the person i used to be in 2015 and i'm not too pleased about that. i decided to manifest this discontent by planning a feature wall in my bedroom but so far, there's nothing but fairylights and a poorly planned collage.

i've not been writing. not even nearly enough to classify writing as a hobby. i've rarely been drawing- i pushed myself to finish a skeleton themed spread today (as if i'm not trying too hard to be edgy already). i've not been looking for new music, i haven't touched my piano in god knows how long, all i've been doing is wasting away or wearing out the spines of my school readers from all the turning and folding.

suffice it to say, i've been having nightly freak outs about what i'm doing, what i'm not doing, and everything else in between. things are going too fast; we're running the risk of disintegration.