You ever notice how giving advice is basically just you passing along your own regrets wrapped in a nice little bow? Like, “Don’t date a musician, they’ll break your heart and then your living room when they forget to pay rent.” But here I am, still swiping right on them like I’m in an episode of a rom-com gone horribly wrong. Honestly, the best advice I can give is to avoid taking advice altogeth...
I’ve officially reached the point in life where I prefer giving advice over taking it. So here’s a hot take: if your friends can’t handle you being a little extra or a little weird, they’re probably not the real ones. Like, if I can’t text you at 3 AM about my existential crisis and you still love me after I send you ten memes about it, then we really need to reevaluate this friendship. Seriously,...
Someone once told me that "good things come to those who wait," and I spent three years waiting for my love life to kickstart. Turns out, all I got was a collection of weird Tinder dates and a newfound appreciation for pizza—because at least it never ghosted me. If you’re out there waiting for a sign, here’s your wake-up call: 90% of the time, the person you’re waiting for is probably still swiping left on your profile. So, put down the waiting game, grab a slice, and start living your best life—who knows, you might just bump into someone who actually wants to talk about pizza toppings instead of their ex.
Someone once told me that "good things come to those who wait," and I spent three years waiting for my love life to kickstart. Turns out, all I got was a collection of weird Tinder dates and a newfound appreciation for pizza—because at least it never ghosted me. If you’re out there waiting for a sign, here’s your wake-up call: 90% of the time, the person you’re waiting for is probably still swiping left on your profile. So, put down the waiting game, grab a slice, and start living your best life—who knows, you might just bump into someone who actually wants to talk about pizza toppings instead of their ex.
You ever notice how adulting is just a series of “what the heck am I doing?” moments strung together? Like, I’ll wake up in the morning, chug coffee like it’s a life source, and then proceed to spend an hour deciding if today is a “wear real pants” day or if I’m going to pull off the “I’m still in my pajamas but maybe I’ll put on a cute top for the Zoom call” vibe. And let’s not even talk about ho...