trembling hands over a full ashtray, cups of coffee and tea everywhere. freud pinned as a target on the wall. ouija board and tarots, a crystal ball to foresee the future is just a spherical version of the dsm. red nails ticking on notebooks, long fingers holding black pens. myriads of notes in clear handwriting. “can you tell me my diagnosis?” make up smudged after crying in bathrooms, boys kissing boys and girls kissing everyone. cursing statistics, throwing d&d’s dices instead of using a calculator. either wearing classy black and white or full rio-carnival-colors-explosion. extravaganza for breakfast, eating three almonds and wondering why you’re depressed. blaming society for everything, sociology is magnificent but the textbooks are awful. observing and analyzing, hiding in the shadows of the unconscious. casually napping everywhere because your thirst for knowledge keeps you up at night. dripping advices from your open veins, joking about suicide with cynics smiles. talking philosophy by heart because you can study the human nature and soul but you can’t erase the fear of being alive without purpose. “so you can read minds?”. drinking red wine in paper cups during lectures, walking drunk around the gardens laughing about others. always being the one to take the blame because you understand why they did that or say that but they can’t see things as clear as you do. messenger bags for the aesthetic, backpacks can fit more books and are lighter to carry. museums and arts because everything is man’s expression and everything can be analyzed. going on dates, casually mentioning you field of studies, never go out again. looking at people too long and too firm. being so overwhelmed by your thoughts you miss your stop multiple times.
Naming the female razor brand Venus is so personally offensive to me….you think Venus the goddess of love and sex and beauty was shaving her PUSSY? Go kill yourself
