I didn’t go straight home like usual. So when I spotted him in his unbuttoned oxford jean shirt over a plain white tee, rubbing his hands together and blowing warm breaths on them, I looked at him sympathetically. I trudged forward, hunched over. I watched as he greeted me with lips pressed together and headContinue reading “listening to georgiana | 2.1”
A Creating Art post wherein I finally tackle the term ‘the wall of suck’ or self-sabotage and discuss my struggles with depression.
Georgiana had a dream about her brother and wakes up to the sound of the countryside. It’s peaceful. It’s foreign but somehow, this was ‘home’ for now.