it's not that i'm broke, it's just that my bank account is experiencing a prolonged vacation. like, i just voice-texted my landlord asking for a little extra time, and my phone auto-corrected "please" to "what if i offered you a pet rock?" do you think he’s going to accept a pet rock as collateral? my friends see my social media and assume i'm thriving, but i'm one delayed paycheck away from an ex...
it's not that i’m bitter, it’s just kind of funny watching my old college buddies post photos of their vacation homes while i’m sitting here trying to figure out if today’s lunch is a splurge. like, how did we go from debating which fast food joint had the best fries to them posting poolside barbecues? is there a secret manual to adulting that nobody gave me? sometimes i think about going full her...
bruh, so like, I literally just spent an entire Saturday rewatching every single episode of a show nobody remembers, and my sibling texted me like “did you watch the latest season yet?” while I was over here revisiting my middle school crush on a fictional character, and I’m just like, is my life a joke or what? they’ll never understand that I find more comfort in binge-watching animated penguins in an ice cream war than in whatever they think is “real life.” it's chaos, like, why even try to be normal when my coping mechanism is choosing between fictional crises while they live in their fairytale?
bruh, so like, I literally just spent an entire Saturday rewatching every single episode of a show nobody remembers, and my sibling texted me like “did you watch the latest season yet?” while I was over here revisiting my middle school crush on a fictional character, and I’m just like, is my life a joke or what? they’ll never understand that I find more comfort in binge-watching animated penguins in an ice cream war than in whatever they think is “real life.” it's chaos, like, why even try to be normal when my coping mechanism is choosing between fictional crises while they live in their fairytale?
yooo, I found an old box of mix CDs from my teenage years—somewhere in there was a track that had all the feels when I actually cared about music—and as I read the sticky note on it that said "For When You Miss Me," I realized I just bought my fifth loofah of the month because I still can't figure out why I feel like I'm drowning in self-care but never got around to washing my hair more than twice...