Digital Journal - Blog Posts

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🥀Name: Orphic

🥀Age: 15

🥀Personality: INTP

🥀Location: India

🥀Student: 10th grade

🥀Main goal: Academic weapon

About Me:

🥀Lover of late-night study sessions, brief infatuations, life-long learning

🥀Obsessed with Shakespeare, The Secret History, existentialism, chess, music, literature, yearning

🥀Favourite Quote: "I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive."

🥀Aspiring to be the best.

Blog Content:

Dark Academia aesthetic

Moodboards

Relatable posts

Study-related posts

Books

Digital journal

04/11/24

I don’t think I’ll ever be someone's first choice. I wish I could say ‘Oh, they love me’ or ‘Oh, they think I hold up the sun’. But I don’t think I’ll ever have that. I’m nice. But not nice enough to think of that way. I light up a room. But I don’t light up their life. I’m beautiful. But not beautiful enough to be their first. It kind of makes me sick. It leaves a pit in my stomach. The fact that I won’t have this romance I’m looking for. That I am bound to love more than they will ever love me. I think that reflects in my taste. I go after people that won’t ever love me for who I truly am. I don’t think I want to be loved for who I truly am. That’s terrifying. For someone to know me that deeply. To know the ins and outs of my skin. My perfect half. Searching. Falling. Failing. It’s everywhere. It’s in my favorite movie. The Half of It. It doesn’t have a good ending, or at least a ‘happy’ one depending on what you consider happy. It’s bittersweet. Just like how love is. Everyone moves behind, moves on. I’m stuck back, tripping over myself as I try to crawl forward and keep up. My fingers digging into the dirt, soil gathering underneath, my tears leaving a trail of lilies of the valley behind me. They’re poisonous. Did you know that? They kill if ingested. They mean love, yes. But they also mean sadness. In the 1800s, they represented ‘return to happiness’. I don’t know if I truly have that. Occasionally, yes. I feel it, I feel loved, I feel happy. But other times I feel sad. I feel lost. I feel like I’m pushing and chasing and tripping. Occasionally they stop, waiting for me to catch up. I scramble after them. Only for them to leave me behind anyways. Am I doomed to be too much to love forever? Is this what the gods wanted? Is this my punishment? Am I selfish to think of that? That I am doomed to wander alone forever? Doomed to watch others find their own? Gods, I hope not. Even if I have to pray. If I have to give up my dignity for my second half. I will do it, because as long as I find them, as long as I am with them. I am whole. We are too strong for the deities. Maybe that’s why they separated us.

“Love is messy and horrible and selfish and bold. It's not finding your perfect half. It's the trying and the reaching and failing. For the chance at a great one.”

- THE HALF OF IT, ALICE WU

04/04/24

I love my friends. I look at them and I just see so much beauty in them. They’re my sisters. They’re who know me best, but, they are also who know me the worst. They are not my carbon copy, in fact, they’re the opposite. They’re quiet, unless they’re together, they’re comfortable with the familiar. Most of all, they think they’re ugly. I think they’re beautiful. I like to run my fingers through their hair, and simply stare at them. It hurts, when I take photos of them, them having me take the photos over and over again. “Ewww, I look ugly in that. Redo. Redo.” or when one always covers their face in every photo, when in fact, they look best candid. Where I have to scour my phone for one photo. One where her face is shown. It hurts to hear them talk about themselves like that. But, I do the same. So why is it any different? Why do I get upset when they talk about themselves so negatively? Then I’ll turn around and inspect myself in the mirror, taking in the awkward shape of my nose, my every flaw, every pimple. I think they need to treat themselves better. Just like how I need to treat myself better. I’m imperfect. I know that much. I’m not this ‘fox beauty’, ‘deer beauty’, or anything like that. That bullshit. It’s all bullshit. Others say I look like a horse, call me a rat. When did the way others see me affect the way I see myself? If I change the way I see myself, will that change the way my friends see themselves? Does the outlook, and thought of myself, affect others?