We're all in our private traps

This weekend has consisted of hours and hours of problem sets, too many benzene molecules to count, a whole truck-load of frustration, and a colony of eraser shavings that now occupy my floor space, seemingly angry at me from separating them from their broken-down mothership. While I stare at my droopy-eyed dog and try to make eye contact with her, I sit here with the same song on repeat, bellowing the lyrics of "Scrubs" by TLC, and counting down the time until I become freed from the shackles of my education.

The end of the freaking triathlon is near, my friends. 

dress from oak + fort, plaid shirt c/o 2020AVE, bag c/o romwe, jc booties, boot harness from etsy

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