(if this essay-ish thing doesn't look like my usual style of texting, i've removed the spaces so it might be slightly easier to read !)
<please play HOME from the UNDERTALE ost on loop for more vibes.>
it's 10:53pm, and you're sitting at your desk, the smell of chocolate chip cinnamon cookies still in the air after baking for a while. you lean back against your chair.
you nurse a warm mug of your favourite tea, breathing in the cool night air. you stare at your laptop, begging for God to help you finish the essay you're working on β because darn it, you need sleep.
fairy lights and a yellow-white lamp brightens the room comfortably, and that soft acoustic finger-styling song from the video game your little brother loves lends its ambience to the room. you had always loved the song, and it had wormed its way to almost every single one of your playlists. you loved how cosy it made your room feel, how much it felt like, well, home.
i'm exhausted, you think.
you recount the day's events. introduction to communications skills. lunch with friend. introduction to business maths. hanging out with friend. grabbed a coffee. talked to seniors. met a new friend. went home. baked cookies. fulfilling, wasn't it? you did things today. i'm proud of you.
to whoever is reading this, unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. take a sip of water, close your eyes or stare at the ceiling. take four deep breaths. get a snack from your kitchen, leave the seat you've been sitting at for the past few hours. it's going to be okay.
cheering you on, yinyinggie β‘
areudirty
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
