saw my bank account this morning and almost threw my phone. all i can afford now is that cheap toilet paper and a frozen meal, guess that counts as living for another week.
sat here in my tiny studio with the peeling paint, trying to find motivation to even pick up my mail, while scrolling through people sharing their latest travels and it just stings more knowing i can’t see my mom who is so far away and probably scared alone in a hospital—meanwhile i count my change for groceries.
just found a collection of old spoons in my sock drawer and now i am questioning my entire life because why do i have these and where did they even come from like do i really need to keep them or am i just collecting reminders of bad decisions
just found a collection of old spoons in my sock drawer and now i am questioning my entire life because why do i have these and where did they even come from like do i really need to keep them or am i just collecting reminders of bad decisions
sitting at these dinner parties like an undercover spy in the middle of a champagne-soaked mission, pretending the clinking glasses don’t echo like reminders of bad decisions, like it’s all totally normal to be the one awkwardly counting the minutes till I can escape into the fresh air. some people just don’t get that the real celebration is walking out without a drink in my hand and a weight off ...