yo, my parents showed up unannounced, and i was in the middle of an epic battle against laundry that somehow grew sentient. they walked in and saw me digging through piles of clothes like an archaeologist at a dig site, just to find something clean—only to realize, it’s all dusty junk and fast food containers decorating my living room like some kind of sad art exhibit. bruh, if this is what adulti...
not gonna lie, i spent last night pacing my apartment in mismatched socks, trying to distract myself from the fact that my paychecks keep arriving just a hair too late. i caught myself laughing at how i’d give anything for a giant inflatable duck to float around in my living room while i drown in existential dread. honestly, the weird part is the absurdity hit me right before i nearly teared up ov...
no because the way that the other day, I accidentally left a hundred dollar bill on my dresser, and I spent the whole week imagining my furniture plotting a rebellion against me. like, “oh great, the coffee table’s judging me for still using the same broken mug from college.” I couldn’t sleep knowing I’ve got debts hiding like rats in a dark corner, and meanwhile I’m smiling at coworkers pretending I can afford these organic green smoothies. finally, I found that bill—turns out it was a crumpled fifty that I'd stashed to feel wealthy at least for one afternoon. sorry, coffee table, but the rebellion’s back on until payday.
no because the way that the other day, I accidentally left a hundred dollar bill on my dresser, and I spent the whole week imagining my furniture plotting a rebellion against me. like, “oh great, the coffee table’s judging me for still using the same broken mug from college.” I couldn’t sleep knowing I’ve got debts hiding like rats in a dark corner, and meanwhile I’m smiling at coworkers pretending I can afford these organic green smoothies. finally, I found that bill—turns out it was a crumpled fifty that I'd stashed to feel wealthy at least for one afternoon. sorry, coffee table, but the rebellion’s back on until payday.
it’s not that i miss him. it’s just that sometimes, i wake up and can’t remember the last time someone texted me "good morning." i unsent a message to him thinking it’d fade away, but it’s just sitting there like the awkward guest at a party who didn’t get the hint. the worst part? i used to love being someone’s reason to smile, and now i don’t even recognize who i am without being "us."