kya aapne kabhi aise feel kiya hai jaise duniya aapko samajh nahi rahi? mujhe yaad hai jab maine apna ghar khol kar apne savings check kiye. ek so-called ‘family member’ ke chakkar mein main pichle 22 saal se chhupi hui hoon. bas tab hi samjha, meri hard-earned salary sirf rent ke liye hai, par meri khaas tarikh ko dekhte hi 15,000 ki balti dhar se sirf 700 bache the. khud se pucha, kya mujhe yeh ...
woke up this morning to find the fire alarm chirping at 3 am. no batteries left in the house and of course i am too broke to just run to the store. meanwhile, the apartment complex is using more budget for their "upgraded" entrance than for fixing our actual living conditions. still waiting for them to do something about the hole in my ceiling. glad they painted it instead. super aesthetic. #exist...
my therapist told me to focus on the present, so I started carrying around a little notepad to jot down the thoughts that drag me back to the past. opened it yesterday, found a page filled with my handwriting: “had to Google how to cook quinoa” next to “is this a panic attack or just indigestion?” still not sure if my problems can fit neatly into a notepad. how do I even talk about what I’m holding when it feels too heavy for even my deepest journal entry? like the time I decided to pick up guitar, thought I’d channel my inner rockstar, but ended up tossing it aside when my fingers started bleeding—literally. guess the universe had other plans. and now I'm just here, walking around, carrying that little notebook, but my brain is still just—no, it’s an endless playlist of stress tracks on r...
my therapist told me to focus on the present, so I started carrying around a little notepad to jot down the thoughts that drag me back to the past. opened it yesterday, found a page filled with my handwriting: “had to Google how to cook quinoa” next to “is this a panic attack or just indigestion?” still not sure if my problems can fit neatly into a notepad. how do I even talk about what I’m holding when it feels too heavy for even my deepest journal entry? like the time I decided to pick up guitar, thought I’d channel my inner rockstar, but ended up tossing it aside when my fingers started bleeding—literally. guess the universe had other plans. and now I'm just here, walking around, carrying that little notebook, but my brain is still just—no, it’s an endless playlist of stress tracks on r...
it's not that I can’t forgive my mom for saying she wished she never had me, it’s just every single time I spill coffee or drop my keys, I hear that stupid sentence echoing in my head. I made scrambled eggs for dinner the other night and couldn’t shake the thought that even those were probably a disappointment. it’s like having a personal judge that replays my past mistakes, reminding me I should ...