literally just got called “the cheap knockoff of my ex” because my cousin likes to collect vintage postcards and I happen to enjoy gluing buttons to construction paper. like, okay Karen. you think my button art won't win the Nobel Prize in Tacky? last week, I made a piece called “Emotionally Unstable As A Colorful Collapse” and now I’m starting to think I should set up a gallery in my living room ...
literally thought I was vibing with someone who was “just getting over” their ex — checked my social media and saw they still tag each other in posts from last summer. so like, what was I even doing... staring at my phone for three hours, thinking we were planning our future together when they never actually even *broke up*? now I feel like I'm one dramatic plot twist away from crashing my own per...
Story Name: "The Homeless Man I Helped Is My Billionaire Rival" Part 5 of 5 My breath catches in my throat. “What do you mean?” He smirks, his lips curling in that infuriating way that used to make me melt. “I’m here for the same reason you are. This place has a way of bringing out the truth.” My heart races. “Truth? You think you can just waltz back into my life after...” “After what?” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “After you turned your back on me the second I lost everything?” I can feel the weight of his words, heavy and harsh. Guilt stabs at my chest. “I didn’t know you were—” “Homeless?” His voice rises, echoing in the crowded diner. Heads turn. “You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now.” I flinch as he stands, towering over me, anger radiating like heat from a fire. “Yo...
Story Name: "The Homeless Man I Helped Is My Billionaire Rival" Part 5 of 5 My breath catches in my throat. “What do you mean?” He smirks, his lips curling in that infuriating way that used to make me melt. “I’m here for the same reason you are. This place has a way of bringing out the truth.” My heart races. “Truth? You think you can just waltz back into my life after...” “After what?” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “After you turned your back on me the second I lost everything?” I can feel the weight of his words, heavy and harsh. Guilt stabs at my chest. “I didn’t know you were—” “Homeless?” His voice rises, echoing in the crowded diner. Heads turn. “You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now.” I flinch as he stands, towering over me, anger radiating like heat from a fire. “Yo...
day 17 of my personal sydney kings breakdown. i just spent thirty minutes arguing with a fan account over a player’s choice of shoes. at first it was lighthearted banter, then they called me delusional for my color preferences, and suddenly i was questioning everything about my taste. i left that comment thread in tears and then just realized i spent the entire night devising a comeback involving ...