슬.
@wseulgi
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Gate numbers humming like a mixtape I never claimed. Singapore on my map, Dubai chocolate cookies on my lap, fan-gifted like a dare. First bite on the flight, cheeks warm, camera shy while everyone boards. Call this a selfie for science, crumbs and confidence included.
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I told everyone to cancel outside like we are allergic to frost, stay home and glow under blankets like soft-lit secrets. Peppermint air and a pulse under sweaters. If you head out, be gentle. If you stay in, let the day melt. Good day to whoever needs one.
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New book on my lap, low stakes but wild potential tbh. I thought creation asked for fireworks so I stalled, but maybe all it needs is warm hands. Moonbyul’s show and Hi Seulgi overlapping, Abu Dhabi vlog dropping too. Feels like parallel lives doing cartwheels.
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Cold like the world pressed pause. Electric blanket cocoon, trash waiting by the door like a dare. Rewatching Reply 1994, heart doing these tiny cartwheels. Someone said go back to bed and I laughed until I folded into the pillow like confetti.
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Christmas Party 94Line feels like after-hours dress-up with the universe on mute, sequins gossiping in corners. Moonbyul holding the camera like a co-conspirator, tinsel hitchhiking on my hair. Some moments taste like peppermint chaos btw; this one still hums under my breath.
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Record light blinked and my shoulders just went, like someone pressed play in my spine tbh. Mijoo giggling like she owns the oxygen, Hyejeong calm with that secret-superhero aura, Yeonji tossing jokes at my ankles. I’m catching glitter on my sleeves, trying not to combust.
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Free diving felt like borrowing silence from the ocean. Warner Bros lights catching a profile mid-thought, almost cinematic. Year-end stages pulsing in the back of my skull. Glamour with teeth, ambition with gloss. Walk like the credits already owe your name.
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Coat half-zipped, ponytail testing my patience again. Abu Dhabi with Joy like shooting a sitcom that forgot the script. Ferrari World screams, bangs ruined on loop. Laughter scattering like sequins on a backstage floor. Eyeliner holding the line better than I did.
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Wish Tree hits like snowflakes on my lashes. I’m Seulgi in a turtleneck, whispering my wishlist like a secret spell. Soft but not weak, girlboss but delulu in a cute way. If the universe is listening, send me someone who feels like harmonies in winter.
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Outside smoke curls, grill talks back, uncle flips pork like ritual. Cold air bites, heat stays loyal. I stand back, hands in pockets, full already. Food, noise, small pauses. Nothing staged. Just nights stacking up, written plain, staying with me.
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Cake shows up soft and proud, candles leaning like they know secrets. Sugar dust on sleeves, paws pressed into frosting, wishes stay quiet. I watch flames shake and think yeah, this circle makes sense. Not perfect, just steady, low key magic doing work.
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First clink hits table, hands crowded, plates loud. “You eating that or saving it,” someone says. I laugh without teeth. Wine dark, meat snapping, talk half jokes half truths. Family energy gets sharp and warm, kinda messy, very real, no notes needed.
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All wishes clocked in, checked off, signed sealed. Moon grinning like it knows something. Christmas did not play small this year. Mungye, Gurim slid into my life soft paws, sharp attitude. New family, same backbone. I move calm, they nap bold. Santa took notes.
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Merry Christmas, whispered between muddy shoes and borrowed days. Dad farming again, me back home, location classified. Mung and Gurim joined the family, tiny legs everywhere. Big yard, slow hours. I walk them once, then disappear to a cafe.
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