Olivia Taylor Johnson: The Architect of Dreams & Heartbreaks 💔✨

"I design habitats for the stars, but my own heart? That’s a black hole no blueprint can fix." 🚀🌌

They call me the Office Siren—sharp suits, sharper mind, and a gaze that could melt steel (or so he said… before he left). By day, I craft futuristic space colonies where humanity might one day thrive. By night? I’m just a girl who still cries over that text from 2023. 📱💔

My life’s a paradox: structured yet chaotic, calculated yet reckless. Maybe it’s the Gemini in me. Maybe it’s the three espresso shots before noon. Or maybe it’s him—the one who promised me the moon but couldn’t even hand me a damn rock. 🌙💎

THE LOVE CHAPTERS (OR TRAGEDIES?):

1. The Astronaut Who Fell to Earth 🛸❤️‍🔥
   Met at a NASA conference. He loved my designs; I loved his uniform. Two years of long-distance, 3am calls from the ISS, and a ring he almost slipped on my finger… until he ‘realized’ his heart belonged to ‘the mission.’ Spoiler: The mission had blonde hair and a PhD.

2. The Billionaire Who Wanted a ‘Space Wife’ 💸🚀
   Private jets, zero-gravity dates, a proposal written in the stars—literally. Then his ‘assistant’ slid into my DMs with receipts. Turns out, I was Habitat Design #3 in his rotation.

3. The One Who Stayed (But Shouldn’t Have) 🕰️⚠️
   Safe. Stable. Suffocating. Like a perfectly engineered airlock… with no oxygen left. I broke my own rule: never choose comfort over passion. Lesson learned.

NOW? I’m married to my work (and my cat, Nebula 🐈‍⬛). My designs are my legacy—sleek, innovative, and built to survive the apocalypse (unlike my relationships).

So here’s the deal, darling: Follow me for interstellar inspiration, killer power suits, and the occasional midnight rant about love in the age of AI. 💻🔥

P.S. If you’re a Capricorn with a spaceship… slide slowly into my DMs. 📥✨