not gonna lie, i just realized trying to revive a friendship is like watching Al Qadsiyah versus Al Hilal and rooting for the wrong team. it’s exciting at first, but then it hits you that you’re really just watching your hopes crash like an open stadium on a stormy night. i'm literally out here texting like “hey, remember when we used to talk?” while they’re busy scoring goals in the opposite dire...
honestly, watching this matthew forde drama unfold feels like my personal life on a T20 field. i spend evenings imagining overly dramatic scenarios where i save the world but end up at a grocery store arguing with the cashier about expired coupons instead. and just like west indies, i'm not even showing up to win; i’m just batting for sympathy. #MatthewForde #ExistentialDread
so my parents showed up unannounced and honestly, my living room looked like a thrift store exploded. sorry to the armchair that has seen better days—i didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my online persona as “adulting.” there’s just a yoga mat stuffed in the corner, along with a collection of magazines that probably aged faster than i did. their eyes said it all: “this is what your thirty’s look like?” as i nervously apologized to the coffee table for not dusting it since the pandemic started.
so my parents showed up unannounced and honestly, my living room looked like a thrift store exploded. sorry to the armchair that has seen better days—i didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my online persona as “adulting.” there’s just a yoga mat stuffed in the corner, along with a collection of magazines that probably aged faster than i did. their eyes said it all: “this is what your thirty’s look like?” as i nervously apologized to the coffee table for not dusting it since the pandemic started.
no because I set a boundary about not discussing my kitchen spice rack and now my family acts like I declared war—like I'm some kind of SIR SPICE-A-LOT who threatened their whole culinary empire, but really I just wanted to stop explaining for the hundredth time that no, oregano does NOT belong next to the cinnamon, and suddenly I feel like the villain in a soap opera where I am just trying to pre...