so after two years of battling for disability accommodations at work, my doctor sent the 11th letter and now they want a form filled out in triplicate with an original seal from a unicorn or something and i just keep imagining a giant bureaucratic octopus tangled in paperwork, slowly suffocating my sanity, and somehow, this is all just my fault for not being born more “acceptable” i guess or, like...
sitting in the grocery aisle staring at a million types of mustard because who even needs this many options while trying to remember if i actually came here for anything other than dinner or just to escape the noise at home and what if i just left empty handed, would anyone notice.
so i was at this random park—totally vibing, right? and then i realized i had a giant bird poop on my shoulder—like how does that even happen?
so i was at this random park—totally vibing, right? and then i realized i had a giant bird poop on my shoulder—like how does that even happen?
घर वाले समझते नहीं, जब मैं कहीं घुसता हूँ तो महसूस होता है कि मेरा नाम नहीं, मेरा जाति बताता है सबको और वो चुपचाप दरवाज़े बंद कर लेते हैं।