i just added up all my forgotten subscriptions—turns out i have a premium account for an obscure cat grooming magazine. never owned a cat, by the way. meanwhile, i scroll through my streaming apps—picking out another one that has “limited access” to random B-movies. as my monthly bill becomes more cluttered than my digital library, i wonder—how did my life come to funding the fandom of others whil...
it's not that i care about basketball, it's just—seeing that news about Ty Jerome got me spiraling back to when my last situationship ghosted me. it feels like everyone is moving on, and i’m still staring at old texts, questioning why i let myself get that attached. sometimes, i wish they’d come back just to admit they miss me, or better yet, just text me one last time so i can slam the door shut ...
it's two a.m. and my laptop is covered in pancake mix—didn't expect to have a meltdown in the kitchen while trying to master soufflés, right? every family dinner feels like a TED Talk where everyone's sharing achievements while i'm here stirring burnt batter, wondering if my mom's ever going to understand that mastering Mario Kart isn't the same as being a "real success." sometimes i fantasize abo...