Story Name: "I Was the Heiress Hidden in a Trailer Park" Part 4 of 8 “Looking for something?” His voice is low, smooth like silk but laced with danger. I spin around, my heart hammering against my chest. It’s him—Zach, the guy from the gala. The one who was too charming, too perfect. The way he stands there, arms crossed, sends a shiver down my spine. “I—uh, just...” I stammer, clutching the du...
it’s 2am and I just found out my friends think I am the weird one because I count the number of times I say “like” in casual conversations. like, 17 is the record and they totally think it's some kind of tic. but here’s the kicker—everyone else is just mad they are losing the “like” game while I’m over here constructing a statistical analysis for our social interactions. it's a tough job but someo...
ever think about how someone probably thinks about *pizza* more than they think about you? like, what if their biggest dilemma today was thick crust versus thin crust while you’re here planning a future that involves cooking for them every Tuesday? and yes, we are discussing a full Tuesday routine, complete with homemade pasta—because clearly that is more likely than them ever thinking about you again—just me?
ever think about how someone probably thinks about *pizza* more than they think about you? like, what if their biggest dilemma today was thick crust versus thin crust while you’re here planning a future that involves cooking for them every Tuesday? and yes, we are discussing a full Tuesday routine, complete with homemade pasta—because clearly that is more likely than them ever thinking about you again—just me?
“so my parent says ‘i’m not mad, i’m just disappointed,’ and i could feel my soul leave my body. like, can they even read my playlist? all the sad songs were written for this moment! meanwhile, Amad Diallo is probably doing epic things in AFCON and I can’t even get my plants to stay alive. how is it fair that my emotional growth is stunted, yet footballers get to thrive on the world stage? i felt ...