not gonna lie, it feels like everyone is out here buying houses, new cars, living their best lives while I'm still struggling to decide which instant noodles to buy. I watch my friends post about their 'adulting' while my parents still introduce me as the 'MNC mein kaam karta hai.' I guess that makes me a professional procrastinator. sometimes I wonder if I just picked the wrong path. I keep waiti...
yooo, I just found an old photo of myself covered in paint, sitting on the floor after an art class like I was ready to change the world. now I stare at blank canvases and think, who even is that person? did I grow up or just grow tired? all this time pretending to be an adult while the creative spark flickers like a bad light bulb. I never thought losing that messy passion could feel like a silen...
…so there I was, halfway through explaining how I reorganized the office supply closet into a Zen garden of highlighters and sticky notes, when my boss casually gives all the credit to Karen from accounting. Like, Karen? The one who thinks "spreadsheet" is a sport? And everyone's nodding, and I'm just sitting there feeling like that sad little plant in the corner—everyone admires the flower arrangement, but I’m over here just… existing. It's wild how being ignored makes you feel so small—like, I’ve spent more hours with those post-it notes than I have with actual friends, but okay, cool—let’s just give credit where it doesn’t belong, right? I should have just… I don't know, hired a skywriter to announce my brilliance. Whatever.
…so there I was, halfway through explaining how I reorganized the office supply closet into a Zen garden of highlighters and sticky notes, when my boss casually gives all the credit to Karen from accounting. Like, Karen? The one who thinks "spreadsheet" is a sport? And everyone's nodding, and I'm just sitting there feeling like that sad little plant in the corner—everyone admires the flower arrangement, but I’m over here just… existing. It's wild how being ignored makes you feel so small—like, I’ve spent more hours with those post-it notes than I have with actual friends, but okay, cool—let’s just give credit where it doesn’t belong, right? I should have just… I don't know, hired a skywriter to announce my brilliance. Whatever.
no, because family gatherings should come with a warning label—'proceed with caution or risk emotional landmines.' every holiday feels like a competition I never signed up for. while everyone brags about promotions and vacations, I try to keep my secret hobby under wraps—painting bizarre abstract art in a basement that smells like regret. it's like a different world, but I feel like I’m disappoint...