mishika
@mishikadas
here to steal your cat pics
just here to observe the twitter chaos before i contribute to it
the nostalgia after you passed places where you made your most beautiful memories
sometimes i just miss “mumma we're allowed to use pens from now on instead of pencils”
death doesn't scare me but the thought of “disappointing my parents even after getting their full support” does
from arguing over who got extra and the bigger piece to sitting with a full plate and no one across the table hits differently
mastering detachment while secretly craving connection is a whole new level of pain
born to be a beautiful and soothing poem, forced to be a miserable poet
intimacy is something i can not fake, if i'm not in love, even holding hands feels weird and wrong