The Wizard’s — Shiratori Yua.

a wilted bouquet disguised as an introduction; maybe a curse, maybe a confession. i toss these words into your glowing screen, white or black, doesn’t matter. to the sweet one reading this: i greet you with all the warmth a broken thing can fake. don’t be afraid to step inside the labyrinth of yua’s love and rot. ♡

the written name is shiratori yua. twenty years old, give or take, still decomposing beautifully in the prime of it! c:

i’m an ENFP, which, probably explains the emotional whiplash. i feel everything too loud, too fast, too much. ´ཀ` words and time, i crave connection like oxygen, like it’s the only thing keeping me from dissolving. i care, i overdo everything. maybe that’s love. maybe that’s obsession? :3

there are things i can’t detach from—little fixiation stitched into the fabric of who i am. they keep me breathing, feeling, pretending i’m still human. so here’s a list: 

☆ musics ... ethel cain, fiona apple, the marías, adrianne lenker, the sundays, lamp, beabadoobee, big thief, the cranberries, jeff buckley, mediavolo, kate bush, flower face, etcetera.

★ films/series ... hannibal (2013), house m.d, girl, interrupted, skins, bottoms, dinner in america, jennifer's body, scott pilgrim vs the world, virgin suicides, panty and stocking, i saw the tv glow, perks of being a wallflower, ... etcetera. (ask me for more)

☆ novels ... keajaiban toko kelontong namiya, nyanyian achilles, donadona, cantik itu luka, little women, funiculi funicula, percy jackson, laut bercerita, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo ... etcetera. (ask me for more)

maybe we’ll like the same things—i hope we do. i’m also an art student, which basically means i bleed my feelings onto paper and call it expression. if we ever end up close, i’ll probably draw you until my hands ache. >_^

in love, i lean toward submission; but don’t mistake that for silence. i give, endlessly. i spoil, i worship, i make sure the person i love never has to doubt it. i’m open to anyone, any pronouns, any shape of soul. what matters is the mutual ache—the kind where respect, love, and understanding blur until they almost hurt. ^^*

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 

ﾟ。 even when it aches, yua.

ﾟ ･｡･ﾟ