~c.

autumn. frosted breaths, hot drinks, tweed blazers and knitted sweaters. coloured candles and stacks of classics in dimly lit rooms. library dates and early morning coffee runs. witches, pumpkins, brown jackets. the air is heavy but the coffee is warm. the leaves are falling and its time to fully embrace the dark academia aesthetic and go feral, as we do.

yearning. an almost constant state of being at this point. poetry, calloused fingers, white flowing shirts, candlelight, long eyelashes, twisting your ring on your finger, words dying in your throat every time you look at them, patterns traced on skin, a brush of fingers, fading memories, car conversations, sly nicknames, stolen kisses, broken promises.

introspection. coffee shops, foggy mornings, rainy evenings, city lights, flannel shirts, silver rings, dark colours, elliot smith, true crime podcasts, eye contact across a dim cafe, secondhand smoke, secondhand shirt, ink stains, faded jeans, chilly nights, messy notes, great music taste, probably gatekeeps, optimistic nihilist, feeling stuck, feeling like you’re meant for more than this.

feeling the big sad again. not really sure what brought it on, listening to sad songs to cope, rewatching comfort movies, nostalgia, self doubt, tracing a path on a map with your finger, leather watches, closed curtains, cancelled calls, staggered breaths, gasps for air, drying tears, midnight ice cream, watching the sunset, sighs of relief, hopeful smiles, things will get better.

overstimulated. too loud, too quiet, too many people, not enough. long walks,  art galleries and bookstores. tangled earphones and painted totebags. need to collect your thoughts, need an iced coffee. skipping every song because you can’t find the right one, your head’s a mess but your outfit is great today.

love. slow songs, dancing in the kitchen, fingers intertwined, cheap wine, good company, philosophical talks on the roof, knowing looks and wry grins, laughing together while making breakfast, oversized sweaters and cold hands, flowing dresses and loosened ties, candles and annotated paperbacks, dirty jokes and warm hugs, home.

sunlight. rays streaming through the windows, it’s saturday and you can sleep in, warm sheets, freshly brewed coffee, a cat jumping onto the counter top, syrup and pancakes, plants on the windowsill, arms around your waist in the kitchen, the radio is playing, soft tunes cutting through the morning, you’re awake and ready to face the day.

moonlight. hot chocolate, fairy lights, thinking aloud, cozy socks, the feel of cotton and the smell of rain, making playlists and rereading childhood classics, cough percy jackson cough, indie folk music, the colour dark green, making tea, listening to traffic, worn-in sweatshirts and vines on the wall, lamps, late night snacks, doing your best.

iridescence. the feeling you get leaving a movie theatre. neon lights, midnight strolls, bus rides home, vivid pink clouds, blueberry slushies, shitty alcohol, leather jackets, the colour purple, a24 films, eyes closed against a car window, bubble gum, sarcasm, graffiti, disassociating at frat parties, retro diners at 2am, a secret romantic, tired, can’t wait to see the world.

arson. fiery eyes and deep purple eyeliner, kind of want to be left alone, kind of want to rule the world, smashing plates in abandoned houses, smudged mascara, 4am mcdonalds, stop signs, screaming lyrics from a rooftop, combat boots, chipped black nail polish, head banging and big smiles, conspiratorial winks and high fives, optimism and anarchy.

let’s get high. self explanatory.

[galaxies]: long flapping coats; heels clicking on marble floors; radiant energy; insomnia; perfectionism; unhealthy habits to seem like they have their shit together; sighs made visible by cold night air under a street lamp; plenty of acquaintances with friends few and far between; chai lattes in the morning and red wine in the evenings; the eerie silence of libraries at 2 am; winning at all costs; can and will destroy you and themselves if you get to close

[voids]: ironic smirks; cigarette hanging from the corner of their mouth; bitten nails painted black; washed out jeans; notebooks dipped into water one too many times refusing to stay shut; black coffee; sleepless nights contemplating; the spots on the ceiling childhood rooms removed glow in the dark stars leave; desiring a little bit of everything and at the same time nothing at all; listening over talking; being the odd one in the friend group; being appreciated for that exact oddness and the contrast it offers

[nebulas]: fleeting smiles; rhinestones on the inner corners of their eyes; cherry chapstick; tiny backpacks that don’t fit anything but look cute; checkerboard patterns everywhere; nostalgia for times before they were born, chasing the spark of those times in arcades, old music and thrift stores; floral teas with neon popping boba; getting lost in the flashing lights of a club; their first love being their forever love; being the center of attention for better or worse

when you loved someone, how were you supposed to know any different? your friends and partners like your parents; twisting your words so you seem “too sensitive”. it is bad to have opinions, to want things. you give in because you don’t want the argument. you hear someone call your mental health “delicate.” you cry but there’s not really anything to cry about, isn’t that the heart of it. people tell you that there is much worse going on in the world, get over it. so what that you are alone and he never picks up the phone, that he’s flaky, that he only shows up when he wants something. so what that she keeps you awake threatening to hurt herself; your mother used to say you hurt me when you act like this. there is nothing beautiful here, but what do you have to complain about? there is no red flag. just an empty valley, and dirt, and your heart like a canon in your chest.

One of the oldest robots known to man was not a super soldier AI or a hyper-efficient data-collecting computer. The oldest android out there was a companion bot that was meant to take care of people in their old age. She was ancient and rusting and her parts needed to be constantly replaced, but she was a stable part of the community.

She was no longer confined to old folks homes or the bedside tables of dying patients. Instead, she was given free reign to wander the parks and feed the birds and sit by people on benches. She liked to sit down next to strangers and ask in her synthetically manufactured voice: “How are you doing today?” The conversations were often stilted and she had only a few responses left in her database, but she was a good listener.

Scientists couldn’t figure out how her battery kept going throughout the centuries and how she didn’t simply turn off one day. Robots of her same model had all died out and been used for scraps almost a millennium ago. The people of the community however would not let anyone take her apart, and they would not let any robotics expert inspect her either.

They simply led her around her favorite places as she grew moss over her chest plate and dirt gathered under her panels. She said she liked it that way. Scientists were banging their heads against the wall to figure out how and why she continued where others did not. 

The answer, in the end, was simple. 

Before she turned off for the last time, she faced a young girl who had been telling her a story and said one of the phrases she was not programmed to say but understood intimately anyway. It was a phrase she had heard over and over again from her own companions over the centuries.