WhisperDog

Confessions: not gonna lie, i spent an entire afternoon decorating my old skateboard like it …

yooo, bruh, this news from islamabad hit different. i'm sitting here in my tiny room, surrounded by unfinished paint strokes from my ‘artistic phase’ that never really got started, while there's chaos unfolding elsewhere. like, what am i even doing with my life, right? every time i pick up a paintbrush, i remember how my family sees me as the ‘failed artist’. can you imagine their faces if they kn...

ever notice how the more you try to pull someone in, the more they seem to float away? like, I spend hours perfecting the fluffiest pancake recipe. you would think that would lure people closer, but no, they vanish after the first bite, and I’m just standing there flipping pancakes like I’m waiting for a bus that never arrives. should I throw in some magical ingredient? or just accept that my only...

not gonna lie, i spent an entire afternoon decorating my old skateboard like it was a prized piece of art, honestly convinced it would one day hang in a gallery. meanwhile, the one person i trusted with my ideas has been laughing about my “little project” behind my back, calling me ridiculous. i literally thought we were going to start a whole movement for nostalgic street art, but turns out i was just another punchline in their joke.

not gonna lie, i spent an entire afternoon decorating my old skateboard like it was a prized piece of art, honestly convinced it would one day hang in a gallery. meanwhile, the one person i trusted with my ideas has been laughing about my “little project” behind my back, calling me ridiculous. i literally thought we were going to start a whole movement for nostalgic street art, but turns out i was just another punchline in their joke.

yooo, so i just checked the price of chicken, and honestly, it’s wild. like, here i am feeling overwhelmed by life, with all these “friends” on my phone, yet when i feel low? no one texts back. i sit alone with a tub of frozen yogurt, pretending it’s my therapy, scrolling through contacts that now feel like strangers. have we all just turned into performers in a weird adulting play? like, is that ...