glosstea’s SWC page July 2022 🍓
✨ Word goal: 5000🧸 Current word count: 2116🍪 Cabin: Non-Fi
1.7
“Grief and confusion”TW: depressing stuffIs it really bad to be grieving when all of your family and friends think you are still happy and healthy? They assume that you're having a great day when really, you want to die. Usually wait I feel very, very down, I feel like I’m drowning. It’s like a huge wave of overwhelming feelings and things that you cannot handle at once. It’s like things piling over you making it hard for you to move or breathe, making you sink down to the bottom of the ocean.But this time, it felt different. I didn’t feel like I was drowning, it felt like I was withering. I feel so numb, like, I don’t feel a single thing. But then, at the same time, I feel everything. Hmmm, how do I explain it? Let’s just say that I am still drowning, like how I usually feel when I’m depressed. But instead of trying to swim back up to the surface, I don’t do anything. I am still drowning, still slowly sinking, but then I’m not because it’s just an empty shell of me. The real me is already gone, and I don’t know where it went, in other words, I don’t know where I am.Some people say, when you lose someone, you go through five steps of grieving. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Some other people say that they’re nonsense and that grief never happens in clear steps and is messy like a bunch of long hair knotted together. I don’t know, but if you really do go through 5 different stages, I’m definitely still in stage 1. I keep thinking that it’s only a prank, a dream, a rumour, an Illusion. Even when my logic tells me that no matter how many times we spam “#TechnobladeNeverDies”He is dead.
2.7
“Feathers” [temporary name]I shove my backpack aside and sink into my beanbag, it's been a long day at school and I have barely any motivation to do my homework. I glance outside my window, the sky is a beautiful shade of blue raspberry bubblegum, so soft, yet vibrant. I would go outside for a strode on a day like this, but my collapsed body just won't move from my beanbag.I reach over to get my notebook and a pencil, flip it open to a brand new page. I stare blankly into my book, usually, I come home, doodle in my book or make some bullet journal, or just write a short piece of diary. But today I wanted to do something different; when I bought the notebook at the store, I promised myself to do something special, something new that makes me deserve to own such a beautiful book. The cover feels so perfect, a quote printed in wavy text in Keep on Truckin' font, somehow so depressing but calming at the same time.I feel so obsessed with aesthetic objects, like I get attracted to them, not romantically because that would be weird. It's more like getting pulled towards it and it's like you're leaning into a mirror and instead of hitting the hard surface, you fall right through it and completely drown in its world. They always take my breath away and sometimes they make me feel like I'm going to pass out, and when I do I almost want to pass out because a small part of me seems to believe that if I faint I would be able to go into the world.
Haha, funny.I get depressed sometimes because I realize I might never be able to be in the places in the ultimate aesthetics I see on pinterest, it just simply makes me sad as if I lost something.
I find myself daydreaming about being in a huge wildflower meadow in vaporware coloured sunsets, or skateboarding in the middle of an empty road in a permanent sunset that is so purple it dazzles my eyes, yet I cannot take my eyes off them.
Oh yeah, another thing you should probably know about me is that I often drown in my own thoughts and that I definitely overuse the word drown because that's basically what happens to me every day.Eventually, I come to the decision that I will start a novel today, it doesn't have to be a novel, and it probably won't be because I am a procrastinator. I used to try to deny the fact that I always have little to no motivation to finish anything by setting out a timetable for myself and trying to complete it every day.
Well obviously I failed every single time so I just gave up. I always give up, but I mean at least this time I will try not to. I clear away the random thoughts spattering onto me like a million water droplets so I can picture the start and settings of my new story.Maybe not being able to focus due to way too many random thoughts is the main reason I give up all the time.
She lives in a small bedroom, A small, bare bedroom. There's one single bed, a wooden desk, a small bookshelf, a cabinet, and a window. And for those wondering, yes, of course, there is a door. It wasn't a very colourful room either. The books on the bookshelf are literally the only things in the room with saturated colours. Even the view outside isn't saturated, just grey skies and grey buildings.I open my eyes, there, that’s a decent setting to start with. I personally would hate to live in that room. I don’t really like minimalist aesthetic anymore, I still think they’re pretty but I’m not as pulled to it, similar to those weak magnets small kids play with that always fell apart. I used to love the simplicity and clean, neat feeling of them but now it’s just bleh. Honestly it’s not my fault that this happened, you see…
3.7
"mirror"I stared at my clone in the mirror and they stared back. What an obnoxious, ugly, useless and rude idiot. I thought to myself. “well that’s not a very nice thing to say” My mirror clone said to be calmly with a small smile. I paused, waves of mixed emotions crashed against the walls of my head. “I- don’t care,” I said stupidly at my reflection. My reflection’s eyes looked kind, sweet, and sad. Maybe I’m not THAT rude to other people, I thought as countless memories flooded back to me. Letting my classmates borrow my belongings, sending my friend a copy of my homework after she told me that she lost hers, helping the little kid on his scooter find his mother, maybe I’m a little nicer than I thought. I looked closely at the face staring back at me. The acne on my forehead was almost completely gone, and to my surprise, my eyes looked way bigger than I remember. I was always the one complimenting other people’s looks, and I never believed my friends when they told me I was pretty, I just assumed that they were just being nice because I complimented them first. So maybe I’m not as ugly as I remembered after all. My clone stood in a small bedroom full of sketches and paintings. The art on her wall looked beautiful. I turned around to look at my wall, covered in paper and canvases. Somehow after seeing them in the mirror first, they looked… better? (this actually happens to me) the lines no longer look so crooked, the colours no longer look dull and unmatching, and the hand… looks like an actual hand! perhaps I’m a bit more useful than I thought! I smiled a very small smile at my reflection and she smiled back with a big sweet smile. Guess I’m happier than I thought, I’m still kinda obnoxious though, but I can worry about that later.
4.7
“feathers" pt.2You see, my parents always make me “tidy” my room even when it is perfectly organized. I would place things that make the room look slightly messy on purpose for the aesthetics. For example placing my books diagonally on my shelves, putting my special pen on top of my notebook instead of in my pen holder or drawer or having a bunch of pillows, cushions and plushies scattered on the ground around my beanbag. I would also often leave things outside of their containers to make my bedroom look a bit less empty. My mom hates it when things are not parallel with each other, funny because she sucks at geometry. I slowly started to think that anything extremely neat and tidy is my enemy, and now every time my room is too “parallel” it just makes me feel uncomfortable and insecure.I slam my notebook shut loudly, I don’t know why I did it, I never told myself to do it, my arm just decided that it would be a good idea to slam shut a book. Good thing though, it made me realize that I’m starting to drift away into the world of random thoughts again. I plot down a few paragraphs of my brand new story and stopped when my hand was finally too sore.I spend the rest of the warm afternoon like every other typical afternoon. I get some lemonade from the jug downstairs, I work on my essay a little bit, I procrastinate some more on my research task and I blast lofi beats in my bedroom. The sun was starting to set when I load up Minecraft on my laptop.“Nice username.” a person says to me in hypixel.I don’t personally think “CloverPixelated” is considered a cool username, mainly because It’s literally just Clover Pixel but I change my last name to “Pixelated” because Minecraft graphics are made with pixel art. But obviously other players wouldn’t know that. I typed “thanks” and decided that I do not feel like having social interactions right now so I logged out and went downstairs to get some more lemonade. I switch on my fairy lights. Fairy lights are one of my favourite “aesthetic things” They’re like stars but brighter and warmer, like fireflies but without their sticky strings hanging around. I love them so much to the point that my friends sometimes call me a “simp” for string lights. The lights suddenly flicker a little bit, making the whole room flash…
5.7
"Don’t put all your eggs in one basket."TW: bad writingAloe attached a big hook onto the thick steel wire. She clipped five red belts onto the hook. The wind screeched harshly as Aloe’s hair jolted to one side. She attached the other sides of the belts onto the carabiners on her waist belt. She used 5 just in case one or a few of them broke. Aloe was finally old enough, she had been dreaming of this day since she was three, and after 14 years of waiting, she was finally allowed to learn how to fly. Her shiny helmet was her birthday gift from her parents, she loved every detail about it and thought it would be sad to have to stop using it after she had officially gotten her license. Her parents went to the city to pick up the birthday cake Aloe ordered. Aloe was meant to wait for her parents to come back before she fly for the first time, but she had already waited for years and years and wasn’t about to wait for another 2 hours since witch families tend to live away from cities. Aloe picked up her mother’s broomstick and mounted it like some sort of famous athlete. She was just being stupid, many people act dumb and do dramatic things when there’s no one around. She checked that every single belt was locked onto the hook properly and it was time to take off.“Alright, this is it,” she whispered to herself breathily.“Three” Aloe looked down at the broomstick to see if she was sitting on the right spot.“two” She gripped the wooden handle firmly and leaned forward.“one” Aloe’s eyes fixed on the other side of the valley as she pushed off the ground with as much power as possible and into the air.For a moment, it was the most amazing thing Aloe had ever experienced. The wind soared past the sides of her face as she dived forwards like a kingfisher diving into the water. And then it happened. The hook snapped in half, the egg basket slipped and all the eggs smashed. All five belts fell down alongside Aloe towards the gravel road at the bottom of the valley.Falling…Falling…Falling…Thud.And then she woke up and it was a dream LMAO because I dont want this to be sad XD