the impulse to hide what I'm doing at my computer still sits so deep even tho I'm literally never looking at anything objectionable , the door will open and I'll hurry to close the page like oh fuck no one can know I'm looking at the Wikipedia page for the Balkans
We weren’t silence because of age-old anger or dutiful stubbornness, it was simply the silence of two people who used to know each other and now have no words left to say. It was the type of silence was empty and expectant yet it was stood up by the words; the pitiful kind of stand-up where the silence sat waiting hopefully despite every reason not to, despite the surrounding vicinity who all knew the truth: that the words would never come
I started to grow tired, the kind of tired that was unfixable by sleep, tiredness that was crawling it’s way to my core. It was lethargy that slowly cemented its way in my veins, slower and slower, so much so that when the movement stopped it was indecipherable.
every day i wake up and have to read more academic articles...... it never ends
