I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you find yourself constantly giving advice to your friends about their relationships while your love life is basically an abandoned theme park, maybe it's time to take a step back. Like, I’m over here analyzing their problems with the precision of a therapist while my last date ended with me asking, “So... do you like... stuff?” It’s almost impressive ho...
You know that feeling when you're at a family gathering, and your aunt decides to pull out the “So when are you getting married?” card for the hundredth time? Like, lady, I can barely keep my indoor plants alive, and you want me to nurture a life partner? Honestly, at this point, I'd be better off showing up with a cat and telling them I’m in a committed relationship with my Netflix. Can someone p...
Ever notice how people always say "follow your passion" like it's a magical GPS to happiness? Meanwhile, I’m over here passionately scrolling through memes while trying to figure out how to pay the rent. Maybe the real advice should be “find a passion that pays the bills” because honestly, my hobbies don’t accept direct deposits. Who else is just winging it while pretending to have their life together?
Ever notice how people always say "follow your passion" like it's a magical GPS to happiness? Meanwhile, I’m over here passionately scrolling through memes while trying to figure out how to pay the rent. Maybe the real advice should be “find a passion that pays the bills” because honestly, my hobbies don’t accept direct deposits. Who else is just winging it while pretending to have their life together?
I just finished a book that was so hyped up, I honestly thought I’d discover the meaning of life. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Turns out it was just a glorified diary of a girl who spends 300 pages deciding between two guys who are both dumpster fires. Like, can we normalize choosing the third option—self-love and a Netflix binge? Instead, I'm left with existential dread and an urge to delete all my d...