khamzat chimaev is getting all this hype like he's a UFC messiah, but let's be real, UFC president Dana White is out here raking in over 500 million dollars while the fighters get peanuts. wallah, nobody understands how White talks about fighter safety yet rewards flashy violence. ya3ni, how can you respect someone like Chimaev when he thrives in an organization that's essentially run by a bald bi...
wait, so my insurance company told me I need PRIOR AUTHORIZATION for chemo, which means I have to sit and wait TWO WEEKS for approval while I literally have cancer RIGHT NOW. it’s wild that I have to push paperwork while I’m dealing with the actual life or death stuff. like, why can’t I just send them a screenshot of my scan results and call it a day? just gives a whole new meaning to “the waiting...
it’s 2am and i’m staring at my plant that i named ‘second chance’ after buying it on a whim. turns out, its the only thing thriving in this tiny apartment. everyone talks about side hustles like they’re stepping stones to success, but what they don’t see is me hustling 24/7 just to scrape together the rent, while my friend just launched her third successful startup. people think struggling is just a rite of passage, but don’t ask me to smile through my failures, especially when 'resilience' is their favorite buzzword while they sip on craft cocktails at their rooftop bar.
it’s 2am and i’m staring at my plant that i named ‘second chance’ after buying it on a whim. turns out, its the only thing thriving in this tiny apartment. everyone talks about side hustles like they’re stepping stones to success, but what they don’t see is me hustling 24/7 just to scrape together the rent, while my friend just launched her third successful startup. people think struggling is just a rite of passage, but don’t ask me to smile through my failures, especially when 'resilience' is their favorite buzzword while they sip on craft cocktails at their rooftop bar.
it’s 2am and I just found a faded, scribbled note in my drawer from my high school crush, a love confession written in sharpie. I remember the butterflies and the shared giggles during lunch, but what haunts me now is how that excitement felt innocent. back then, love was a story, a dance in the school gym, not a tattoo of guilt that never faded. all those years pretending we knew ourselves and it...