honestly, every time i hear about mukesh ambani making billions with a snap of his fingers, it stings. i was supposed to be a success story too—perfect grades, student loans, but now i am literally living paycheck to paycheck. my rishtedaar keep asking if i’ve found a stable job, but what they don’t know is that i’m drowning in hidden debt, pretending to be okay while just counting days to the nex...
bruh, I caught myself staring at an empty jar of pickles today, thinking about how I could pretend it held all the meaningful conversations I never had. Like, I could pick it up, shake it, and make up stories of friends I haven't seen in years, laughing over dinner that never happened. I scroll through contacts on my phone, but it's just names that echo back silence, and here I am talking to a jar...
day 34 of my chronic inability to navigate adult life, and i somehow sent a screenshot of a meme to the ONE person whose face i screenshotted. just. THE most embarrassing collection of ten badly drawn frogs and the caption, "when you realize you’ve been living in a simulation since 2020." now they think i am a frog meme enthusiast. my brain immediately went to worst-case scenario. they are gonna tell everyone in the group chat i have 'frog-fetish energy,' whatever that even means. the absolute depth of my shame.
day 34 of my chronic inability to navigate adult life, and i somehow sent a screenshot of a meme to the ONE person whose face i screenshotted. just. THE most embarrassing collection of ten badly drawn frogs and the caption, "when you realize you’ve been living in a simulation since 2020." now they think i am a frog meme enthusiast. my brain immediately went to worst-case scenario. they are gonna tell everyone in the group chat i have 'frog-fetish energy,' whatever that even means. the absolute depth of my shame.
day 47 of feeling like a ghost in a city full of strangers—scrolling through posts about the Birmingham vs Leicester match while I eat instant noodles alone. my phone buzzes with notifications from people I barely know, but the silence is deafening when I need a real connection. I moved here for a love that crumbled before the season ended, and now I’m just a spectator, waiting for the next emotio...