• actually named angel
• ching chong
• i read an ungodly amount of books
• i have a lot of dreams and none are ever gonna happen :)
• hopeless romantic

• color - all shades of purple 💜
• word - oxymoron :o
• drink - coke
• band - stray kids (!!!)
• music artist - wasia project
• book - i literally can't pick
• author - chloe gonggg 🕶
• person - i would say me but it'd be a lie
• place - wherever you are ;) jk wherever i feel like going

• spotify
  • i have themed playlists
• discord
  • honestly if idk you then uh.
• instagram
  • go ahead try to stalk me i dare you
• goodreads
  • BOOKS

astra inclinant, sed non obligant ⭐

and there is so much hurt and anger pent up inside of me, with no one to listen or to care. it sits uselessly, trapped forever in my chest and struggling towards the surface, pushing my breath out of the way until those breaths are gone and it's just gasps upon gasps upon gasps. i look for love in handsome faces and pretty smiles, because that is where my mind believes i can find a companion, someone to hope with and to hope for. but yet, these faces and smiles turn away, to other faces and smiles that bloom back at them in the way mine can't or won't. i feel so much and too much to the point where it just boils back down to the the hurt and anger. the two and i are one and the same.

apathy is what you don't want. hate is okay, murderous rage is okay, but not apathy. because when someone hates you, or wants to kill you, there are still emotions. they still care what happens to you, even if it's for a malicious reason. when it's apathy, there's nothing at all.

i've been told that i can wield words better than the average person. but these words i wield, they were never meant to be a blade. they were meant to be better than the swords they have become. i never wanted to hate the way i hate, but i can't change that now. now, my hate for the world is mutual, and it is better this way. i have the reassurance that i am not alone in hating me.

for an entire day, i couldn't breathe. the night before, i had subsequently went to bed at 10, attempted falling asleep at 11, fell asleep at 12, woke at 1, and stayed awake. there was so much anxiety, so much curiosity and an infinity of questions to be answered. and every second was a fish out of water, gasping desperately for air with a pinch in my chest. i buried it, or tried to, and carried on. but the distress was worthless, useless. it didn't stop the inevitable. but that's okay, because when the inevitable rounded with its scythe held high in claws, it cut through the razor thread wound tight around my breaths. after all, the ending is easier than the lead-up. i can breathe again, take full-bodied fresh air into my body.