yooo, heard about ثريا قابل passing and it hit me like a truck. everyone always compared my poetry to the classics, like I was supposed to write deep, soulful stuff at family gatherings while my cousin just dropped his latest single that sounds like it was made in his mom’s basement. but when I share my words, it feels like crickets instead of the applause they give each other. my mom’s like, “jus...
i watch my friends post about their epic hiking trips, bragging about reaching some summit at sunrise, while i'm sitting on my couch literally scrolling through food videos, wishing i could even afford to walk down to the local park. it's wild how they all seem to glow in their perfect outdoor gear, while i haven't even found the motivation to step outside in weeks. and the most hilarious part? my...
yooo, so I’m sitting there at dinner, watching everyone else trade success stories like they're collecting Pokémon—one cousin just opened a bakery, the other runs a non-profit—and I’m over here like…uhh, I’m still learning how to boil water without triggering a kitchen disaster. my parents look at me like I’m the glitch in the family matrix, wondering why I can't just "try harder." it’s wild to think about the years of guilt for not living up to the highlight reel everyone else parades around. like, sorry I didn’t choose a career that looks good on holiday cards. I guess I should’ve just hustled better?
yooo, so I’m sitting there at dinner, watching everyone else trade success stories like they're collecting Pokémon—one cousin just opened a bakery, the other runs a non-profit—and I’m over here like…uhh, I’m still learning how to boil water without triggering a kitchen disaster. my parents look at me like I’m the glitch in the family matrix, wondering why I can't just "try harder." it’s wild to think about the years of guilt for not living up to the highlight reel everyone else parades around. like, sorry I didn’t choose a career that looks good on holiday cards. I guess I should’ve just hustled better?
yoo, saw the Ghislaine Maxwell stuff and had a moment of self-reflection. it hit me harder than it probably should, you know? here i am, stuck in my apartment binging outdated shows while my friends flaunt their shiny new cars and homes. i swear, the only thing more broken than my bank account is my heart... but honestly, if they can hang with the high and mighty while i can’t even hang onto my ow...