Unfortunately, summer's coming to an end and I start classes tomorrow. Le sigh. And I got a new job. Soooo, yeah. Fill in the blank. Haha.
Anyway, just wanted to say hello. Love ya! Come visit me here, plzzzz =) And I thought I'd fill your smile with cuteness with new stuff from my etsy ^___^ Take it easy, ya'll!
Soo... the time has come, my friends, for my domain. I am super excited to give you a link to my first domain ever and I moved to wordpress.... don't worry, I'm not deleting Vox or anything. I love the community here and I will check up on your posts, but I will blog at my new wordpress. Except for when I want to make private posts, I will do so here.
Please take a look and let me know you visited! Thanks <3333
But I'm also scared of being too critical. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I can't go with the flow or do something without thinking the worst. My pessimistic attitude comes out when it's not needed. I remember in the 5th grade, my friend James asked me to be his girlfriend. I was leaving in one month to Japan, and I remember thinking What if we break up in a month, I'll be completely devastated. And of course we'll break up because I won't be here in a month. Instead of living in the moment, I said no. Then James went and asked my friend Anna to be his girlfriend not even an hour later during recess. But, that's besides the point.
I'm the kind of girl who falls for a guy who doesn't feel the same way back. I'm the kind of girl who falls for the quarterback and he doesn't even know I exist. I'm the kind of girl who gets the guy I don't want. I'm the kind of girl who gets the guy but doesn't want commitment. I'm the kind of girl who can't keep a guy as a friend even after.... after.
These romance movies fill my head with qualifications I seek in a guy. The perfect guy. But just like us girls who falter at the perfect body men ogle after, the perfect guy in fairy tales and romance stories does not exist. And my moments of feeling needy and lonely is just... pathetic.
Fortunately, I think I know who he might be. But like my fifth-grade-self, I'm still scared. And my mouth remains shut.
Yesterday's art.
More today.
I'm addicted to colored pencils... foreverrrrrr.
xo.