I’m eighteen, and I think of my whole life as a blank page that I’m both scared of and incredibly eager to fill. I live in a small town, but I dream of moving somewhere where the mornings smell like the ocean instead of asphalt. I’m studying to be a graphic designer because I believe that a beautiful image can say more than a thousand words. In my free time, I draw in my sketchbook, listen to indie music on my headphones, and drink way too much matcha. My friends say I’m a little chaotic, but I prefer to call it creative chaos
Warm evenings on the rooftop with friends and string lights
The smell of fresh baked goods and coffee in the morning
Drawing portraits of strangers on the subway
Playlists curated for rainy days
Old film photos and their graininess
Turns Off
When people interrupt and don’t listen
Pointless bureaucracy and long lines
Temperatures over thirty—I’m literally melting
Toxic productivity and the cult of “success for success’s sake”
Voice messages longer than two minutes
