All the stress that is exploding in painful pinpricks on my brain and behind my eyes at irregular intervals has sucked up all creative manifestation or ability to think coherently. Im going to be on a writing hiatus until I begin to exalt in small, beautiful things again, or until I can fully articulate how a cold and solitary letter grade could possibly encompass all the passion I feel towards my subjects. The D I am going to get on my APUSH midterm does not reflect at all how inspiring I find the subject. Mental conundrum. Conflicted loyalties. The growling, threatening, hiss of stress.
Eyeless in the morning sun you were
Pale and mild, a modern girl
Taken with thought still prone to care
Making tea in your underwear
Pale and mild, a modern girl
Taken with thought still prone to care
Making tea in your underwear
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