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My Room Feels Like I’m Being Watched
My bedroom crouches beneath the roof like a ribcage. The useless, thin, full‑length mirror is glued to the front of my shoe cabinet, rehearsing my gestures long before…
4 min read
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I Don’t Feel Real Most of the Time
Written while eating ice cream, wrapped in a towel with wet hair after a shower. There’s a layer between I and everything else. Thin, transparent, and impossible to…
4 min read
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quit my job because memento mori
Written on July 3rd. I left my job yesterday. I’m officially out this week. I couldn’t do it anymore. There was no dramatic confrontation or a final email…
4 min read
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Scrolling on social media makes me hate beautiful women
Don’t come to me with that “the algorithm is shaped by what you engage with most” bullshit. If you ignore your accounts long enough, they reset. I’ve been…
4 min read
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Finding Peace Inside the MRI Machine
Sunday night, my head started aching as if it were about to split open and I couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t too much work that had to be finished…
4 min read
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addicted to the quiet in the storm in Flowers in The Attic
Written after reading the first hundred pages of Flowers in the Attic. While reading books or watching a film or two, I enjoy the feeling of being warned…
4 min read
You can call me Celestica. This space is where I leave behind the things I don’t know how to carry. Pieces of writing, photographs, poems, and states of mind that never fully left. Welcome.
