it’s not that i care they’re texting someone else. it’s just that my new cactus, whom i named fernando, was supposed to be our emotional support plant. like, what’s the point of pouring my heart out to fernando if i find out he’s been texting my partner behind my back? honestly, i can’t believe i have to water this betrayal now.
just sent a risky text about the future of virtual reality, like this is some groundbreaking conversation starter. now i am watching those three dots bouncing like they are my heart rate and thinking—do they know how badly i procrastinated writing that? what if they don’t even care, but i care too much? but then again, am i overthinking or is this my inevitable doom? there’s a weird buzzing sound,...
i just found a picture of me at a candle factory holding a three-foot-tall wax giraffe. i'm not even sure why i was there, but the look on my face says it all. now i'm trying to remember if i accidentally joined a cult, and if so, do i need a lawyer to get out of this?
i just found a picture of me at a candle factory holding a three-foot-tall wax giraffe. i'm not even sure why i was there, but the look on my face says it all. now i'm trying to remember if i accidentally joined a cult, and if so, do i need a lawyer to get out of this?
it's three AM and i'm scrolling through my bank statement, trying to figure out how I spent so much on random subscriptions i never use—meanwhile, the last time the bears won a playoff game feels like the same amount of time since i've had a moment of actual happiness. now i’m lying to myself, thinking “well at least the bright side is... i'm broke but emotionally thriving” when clearly my plants ...