day 12 of contemplating why people like me. i found myself scrolling through job descriptions for "senate president" positions, thinking, maybe they like that title more than me. yesterday, my cat knocked over my inspirational quote wall and i realized the most profound thing is probably that even my cat’s standards are higher than my love life. now i’m just wondering if anyone will ever truly lik...
wait, so everyone’s getting all freaked out about this Anthropic thing? meanwhile, I caught myself googling recipes I KNOW my ex used to make. I almost bought that old cast iron skillet just to feel something familiar. instead, I just sat in my empty kitchen, scrolling through couples on my feed, and realizing how much of myself I built around someone who isn’t here anymore. honestly, what even is...
not gonna lie, I ran into a kid I grew up with at a weird poetry reading where everyone wore berets and pretended they were deep. I waved, thinking he would remember me, but he stared at me like I was some cringe artifact from his childhood. He literally said, “I don’t recall that person.” So I pulled out my secret weapon - my only published poem about the smell of farts during history class - and read it like I was Shakespeare. It didn’t get him to remember me, but let’s just say the air got a lot clearer when he realized I was serious and he awkwardly slipped away.
not gonna lie, I ran into a kid I grew up with at a weird poetry reading where everyone wore berets and pretended they were deep. I waved, thinking he would remember me, but he stared at me like I was some cringe artifact from his childhood. He literally said, “I don’t recall that person.” So I pulled out my secret weapon - my only published poem about the smell of farts during history class - and read it like I was Shakespeare. It didn’t get him to remember me, but let’s just say the air got a lot clearer when he realized I was serious and he awkwardly slipped away.
day 25 of me trying to create the perfect ceramic mug for my best friend's birthday—every evening, I sit there, coaxing the clay into existence, while obsessively texting my mom about how I messed up again. and just when I thought I finally nailed the shape—smooth, symmetrical, like something out of a pottery magazine—I sent the entire rant, gushing about my disastrous progress, straight to her. n...