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guys i kinda like this pic but it looks goofy what should i do

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to the best teacher fr!!!!

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i lovr my car

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i attempted a body for the first time how did i do chat

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Every day, girls talk about futile things like the 3 month rule, talking stages, how many guys they've kissed, whether they're a virgin or not. Boys react with fire emojis to stories: not just to one girl though, at least seventeen. What happened to loving? Yearning? Loving partners? A couple not rooted on social media? I want to know her: everything about her. What she thinks of controversial opinions, her highs and lows in life, how she'd react to certain situations, know futile things like her mannerisms, her way of speaking, her favourite colour, her handwriting, her. I think she's stunningly beautiful, in every single aspect, from the inside and outside, even if she doesn't know me. Everytime i see her, I lose sight of everything else, because everyone becomes blurred. Her eyes, which I've never seen up close, have a beautiful shape. Her clothes match her persona, her way of walking, her way of speaking. Really, just her. I've drawn her more than 20 times and have written about her countless times. I think about her everyday, and she doesn't know me. I wish I could talk to her. I'd take up every second I could glazing at her beauty, hearing her speak. Really, if I was in a classroom with her, I'd be happy. I like her a lot, but am but an outsider in her life, and will continue to be. Or I'm just an hopeless romantic, who knows?

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some doodles i did recently

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A tua presença faz-me querer te ver todos os dias. Tenho sempre a esperança de que me vejas quando passo por ti, mas estás sempre a andar para a frente, com o teu colar, o teu cabelo acastanhado e as tuas roupas que sabes que te ficam bem. Um dia, espero que sejamos amigos, porque sei que mais é impossível, estás fora da minha liga e realidade. Mesmo só falando comigo uma vez ou outra, tenho a esperança de saberes o meu nome, ou que fales comigo, porque a tua voz é doce de ouvir e os teus olhos hipnotizantes. Desde o primeiro dia em que te vi, com os teus fones de fios brancos para te "dar estilo", sabia que tu eras a pessoa. Esta é uma prosa não de confissão, mas para desabafar, porque só pensar sobre ti está a fazer a minha cabeça sobreaquecer: tenho de a 'desaquecer' através de palavras, cujo eu sei que nunca chegarão ao teu ver.

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i also tried to realistically draw random things i found in my house

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i attempted realistic faces for a change but idk how to feel ab this

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There is nothing more terrifying and powerful than a desperate man. I am a desperate man. A very much desperate one. But desperate for what? After all, the less I have, the less I have things to be desperate about. Still, I cling onto that desperation, hoping it will guide me somewhere in life. But really, there's nothing I have besides that desperation, is there?

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I have so many compressed thoughts on my head: it's like they're all rumaging through my brain, wanting to be expressed. The only way I can let them out is by expanding them through pages and pages of paper and ink, just like a scrounched piece of paper is put back to place.