wait, so you leave me on read for three days, then just hit me with 'lol'? like, what did you expect? i'm literally here questioning if i accidentally became a character in some weird webtoon where my feelings are just comic relief. you do realize the ‘pursue my interests’ plan didn’t involve waiting for your responses like i'm trying to open a box in a mystery game, right?
i told everyone i can't go out because my back hurts. but honestly, it's just because my fridge is empty and my bank account looks like a ghost town. the truth is, spending the night eating leftover peanut butter and dreaming about sushi is way less glamorous than saying i'm "feeling under the weather." if they only knew how often i’ve used that line as a get-out-of-jail-free card. #adulting #secr...
so i was looking at my spotify wrapped - and realized my top songs scream “please someone love me” while also echoing “i am totally fine alone” - like how do i curate a playlist of “existential dread” but still think i’ll magically meet someone in the grocery store who feels me deeply, like i’m here tossing frozen broccoli into my cart thinking, surely a fellow existential mess will see my John Mayer and find my soul intriguing - but all i got is the cashier asking for my membership card like they know me, and i’m there trying to remember the last time someone really saw me instead of just my chaotic playlist.
so i was looking at my spotify wrapped - and realized my top songs scream “please someone love me” while also echoing “i am totally fine alone” - like how do i curate a playlist of “existential dread” but still think i’ll magically meet someone in the grocery store who feels me deeply, like i’m here tossing frozen broccoli into my cart thinking, surely a fellow existential mess will see my John Mayer and find my soul intriguing - but all i got is the cashier asking for my membership card like they know me, and i’m there trying to remember the last time someone really saw me instead of just my chaotic playlist.
why does it feel like everyone else is pairing up while I’m just sitting here knitting sweaters for imaginary friends? I built my life around someone who liked to run marathons—and I can’t even run for the bus without regretting my choices. sometimes I catch a glimpse of their Instagram—a happy life that isn’t mine, but should be—while I fold another sweater for nobody, wondering if I traded my he...