cabinet of pigeonholes crashed and from the ashes, strange flowers

if you are reading this, you know how well separated the parts of my life are. different people even call me by my different names. each group of people clearly differentiated, comfortably distanced.

well, this all came to nought tonight. every sphere of my life from childhood to university converged at filament and all watched the fyp that my groupmates and i have toiled over for the past year. i have to say, part of the reason i sat at the furthest corner of the floor hugging my knees to myself was from the sheer surreality of it.

i have absolutely nothing to ground this upon: the nostalgia from looking at the bcs people. there are practically no friends, but i just.. really appreciate them, and their efforts toward their own projects and towards filament. and of course. my fellow we the people. how to say. this is a potential lump in throat, let's not embarrass me. lol

i hope to learn the guitar. then i can strum and sing like holly golightly. as i age, i want less of appearing mysterious and shit. the peace from solitude is precious enough in itself. and please don't look at me, there is nothing impressive here. really. maybe sometimes i dress up and put enough makeup can look halfway decent, but i would rather read and weep and write and make people weep. that is honestly, sincerely what i wish to do most.

all the lonely people can hold hands and have some moments of golden silence for abit.