to life, from liv.


to finals week.

you’re like the moment I run out of air underwater. . a stream of bubbles dissipating to nothing, the pressure filling my brain and lungs collapsing inwards. . nothing’s more rewarding than that reviving gasp of oxygen once my head floats to surface. . winter break feels like the car ride home from the community… Continue reading to finals week.

to Saturday, 5:45 a.m.

charcoal shadows blanket the city, each house still tucked in and hidden from the ebony night. it’s an uneasy and unusual feeling— stillness covers the once-bustling streets, stirring silence almost too perfect, a rarity of its own. with dark pink clouds and deep orange along your horizon, you bring promise of morning light and new… Continue reading to Saturday, 5:45 a.m.

to writing.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand your technicalities or even the conventional ways you’re perceived. Billions of possibilities are held in your hands. You carry love, joy, deep sadness and remorse. You’re an essay, a business pitch, a loved one’s kind birthday wishes. You’re a series of symbols crafted into what we call a “word”,… Continue reading to writing.

let’s connect ♡

View this post on Instagram

hey mtv! welcome to my crib 🏰✨

A post shared by Olivia Wynkoop (@oliviawynkoop) on