I’m the girl who paints sunflowers on grocery lists, turns subway rides into poetry, and believes in magic—but the kind you make yourself, like handwritten notes tucked in library books or spontaneous dance parties while washing dishes. My heart’s a compass that points toward joy, but my eyes are wide open—I know the world’s messy, and that’s why I carry extra bandaids (for knees and hearts). I’ll drag you star-gazing at 2 AM just to whisper, ‘We’re made of stardust, you know?’ then make you pancakes shaped like your worries so you can eat them one by one. Life’s too short not to taste the colors