I just saw the news about রমেশ চন্দ্র সেন and it made me think about how we never really know what’s happening behind closed doors. I once overheard my boss bragging about a promotion while I was stuffing my lunch leftovers in a plastic bag, wondering if it was acceptable to eat expired yogurt at this point. Last week I was three hours late on my electric bill, feeling like a contestant on a twist...
it's not that i don’t care about cricket. it's just that—when i heard about shadab khan being retained, all i could think was, why do i feel more invested in a game than my own life? i turned down a trip because i didn’t want to miss work, and now my colleague is posting pictures from that beach—how did i let that happen? scrolling through everyone else’s highlights, wondering if i’m stuck playing...
wait. so Mohamed Salah is getting all this buzz. meanwhile, I still haven’t figured out how to organize my bookshelf. I scroll through social media, seeing friends make big moves, and I’m here trying to remember if I fed my houseplant this week. everyone else seems to be leveling up while I’m stuck in the tutorial phase of life. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. #人生 #
wait. so Mohamed Salah is getting all this buzz. meanwhile, I still haven’t figured out how to organize my bookshelf. I scroll through social media, seeing friends make big moves, and I’m here trying to remember if I fed my houseplant this week. everyone else seems to be leveling up while I’m stuck in the tutorial phase of life. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. #人生 #
wait, like, nobody talks about the weird obsession i have with collecting vintage postcards. it’s like i’m trying to piece together a life i never lived but, instead, i’m literally drowning in my parents' attic, surrounded by dusty cards while imagining fabulous adventures that never happen. i look like a full-blown historian when in reality, i’m just avoiding real adulthood while staring at scene...