ad astra
I am Mai, and this blog consists of 0.1% real talk and 99.9% nonsense. Why, I'm not any better than the others—well, except that I couldn't last a day without chewing ice cubes. I like Sir Isaac Newton, the number seven, and macabre stuff. And there's more to know, I guess.

forth

Let's depart and evacuate.

Waste//Disgrace

<have you ever felt the realization that you know you have a lot of things to share and tell yet you couldn’t find the right words to elaborate a single one?> it drives me nuts that i’ve already been sitting here for like, an hour(?) yet i couldn’t even start a certain topic off with a bloody article.

[i’m uninspired]

darn it, univerxe.

had I had -> God-knows-what <- i could have written

numerous stories.

and poems.

had i had this {abstract idea} i’m talking about i could have made something certain for the first time in my fifteen years of existence.

how to tell, how to tell.

and my thoughts—oh woe, for the love of humanity! my thoughts are

nowhere

near

relevant to any of this.

i am a shame. i am a walking disaster.

why is this blog even existing, when i myself couldn’t even remember the last time i’ve spilled out something intelligible for myself and for everyone to set their busy eyes on? *

* more precise question:

self, why do you even </exist?>


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Word.

Word.

(Source: pushthemovement)


Good Grades + Social Life = Sleep Deprived

Good Grades + Social Life = Sleep Deprived




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