Like a rose kissed by the morning sun, the beauty unfolds in quiet grace and each petal touched by the whisper of dawn, as if the world itself paused to admire the stillness of the opalescent moment.

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Let this speak for me so powerfully that, from the line of my thighs to the darkness of my eyes, they devour you. So 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 that you’re almost disgusted at your own helplessness because nothing in your mind can define me properly.

I don’t mind confessing that I’ve always believed I would be that efficient. Precise. Criminal. Starting with my new ELLE cover as the mens rea, because I know what follows will be the actus reus. And no, I won’t be pleading innocent. I understand exactly what I’m guilty of.

You have one chance to be religious, and it will be to savor this as if it were the finest 2001 Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru.

https://t.co/hr36J6Wkzz, @janekimh.

Because I’d rather match that dramatic gathered ruffle headband, which articulates how modern designers imagine the 2026 Victorian look, with a dollcore floral dress; even death does not cure my romance for the doomed and the beautiful.

Neither “overeducated” nor “overdressed” exists. What follows you into the grave is what your ghost wears forever, and one #fit_arkive a day keeps me from resting in the coffin as just a Victorian ghost.

Because a moment without you is a thought that makes no sense to me, may we make everything right by being together. I love you, my @Jeffrwey, I really do.

Just like you always say, we should both always do our best to make “us”… well, completely us. I know that’s the reason why we work beautifully, imperfect as we may be, as lovers. I pray that we keep this understanding alive for countless days to come.

Don’t take this as me agreeing with the cliché that women think with their hearts whereas men think with logic, because it’s an oversimplification. But it’s true that I can have 60 seconds and 61 moods, and it’s insane how much you make me feel loved while dealing with it all.

Adding Exhibit B, because being so mediocre at experiencing the chemical reaction called desire simply won’t do. The fluttering feeling is just the first step now, the rest depends on how fearless you’re willing to be.

As the poets say (and I write from a contemporary canon), gatekeeping doesn’t make someone less hot. Exhibit A: these Grammy Museum photos I’ve been kept in my draft all year. Do they awaken the flutter I’ve been holding in reserve just for you?

For this reason, my account is a cobwebbed grave until summer. I bloom only when the lily pads do.

I can imagine you felt like a kid curling up in the fetal position for warmth, conscious of being all alone there, when it could have been the four of us, passing the mic to each other because none of us wanted to mispronounce the event. Damn right, @Janekimh, you did that.

Why let grief eat me in the early days of the new year, when @BHACKPINK could just overwhelm me with excitement instead?

My 2014 bucketlist wish might have come true if I’d brought the book I wrote myself for them. But I’m better at writing about toxic relationships, so it’s safer not to. Even so, the teenage Rosie Posie would have loved their smiles, this dream counts as fulfilled! 🪽

Stop acting like we’ve already been married for twenty years, and just let me enjoy my right to a peaceful Sunday, please.

Perhaps it’s because they aren’t covered even by the tiniest fig leaf of dogma that they don’t talk about heaven, yet somehow feel like it, or simply because they’re my Christmas angels, I believe that every single of them deserves so much love.

It’s natural that being in Seoul National University Children’s Hospital feels calmer than sitting in a corner of the city with a cup of tea in hand, though I must prepare myself to meet every frighteningly complex thought that escapes the mouths of the children.

I’d never tolerated a mediocre New Year’s Eve, so a kiss that destroyed my philosophy somehow felt better than being ten beers deep. And now, I can’t move an inch without missing you, @Jeffrwey.