i saw my old diary under the bed yesterday and it felt like someone else’s life. so many dreams that never happened, and now i just wish i’d written down what it was like to be that person back then, before i got so... lost.
yaar, matlab samjho na, जब वो शराब पीता है तो सब कुछ बदल जाता है - पड़ोसी सुनते हैं पर कोई मदद नहीं करता, सबको लगता है ये हमारा मामला है। मैं तो बस चुप रहती हूं, कोई समझता नहीं।
so today i spilled coffee on my keyboard and it basically short-circuited, now i have to use a spoon to hit the keys because it has become a weird artistic installation called "drowning in caffeinated chaos" while the words i type disappear and my entire existence feels like an absurdist performance art piece no one asked for, why do i even bother
so today i spilled coffee on my keyboard and it basically short-circuited, now i have to use a spoon to hit the keys because it has become a weird artistic installation called "drowning in caffeinated chaos" while the words i type disappear and my entire existence feels like an absurdist performance art piece no one asked for, why do i even bother
saw an old neighbor today, the kind you wave at but never really want to talk to. forced a smile while my stomach knotted, thinking about how some connections just never fade, you know, just linger and linger.