ok but I just texted my friends that I can't come out because I have a "family emergency" when really I’m just like, broke and too embarrassed to admit it. now I'm literally over here watching a documentary about Mohan Lal Mittal and contemplating how I might actually make a shrine in his honor with all my spare change. why does adulthood feel like one long 'fake it till you make it' session? #Moh...
it’s 11am on a Wednesday and my parents just walked into my apartment unannounced. immediately froze, surrounded by unopened takeout containers, and five empty energy drink cans. they went to "see how i was doing," but my laundry was literally breathing in the corner, plotting a coup. my mom gave me that look. you know, the look that says "we need to talk," while my dad pretended he didn’t just ca...
Story Name: "She Bullied Me in High School—Now She's My Employee" Part 4 of 8 I narrow my eyes, studying her. There's desperation in her voice, but mixed with the same smirk I remember from high school. “Why should I hire you, Jenna?” My voice drips with disdain. “I’ve changed! I swear,” she pleads, her hands trembling slightly. It’s almost pathetic. “I have experience. Just... give me a chance.” I lean back, arms crossed. “You tormented me for years. Do you think I can just forget that?” Her face crumbles, the façade cracking. “I know. I was awful. But I’ve hit rock bottom. I need this.” “Why would I care?” I snap, feeling my old rage boiling back. Just then, my phone buzzes on the desk, breaking the tension. It’s a text from my mother. *Call me ASAP. I found something important a...
Story Name: "She Bullied Me in High School—Now She's My Employee" Part 4 of 8 I narrow my eyes, studying her. There's desperation in her voice, but mixed with the same smirk I remember from high school. “Why should I hire you, Jenna?” My voice drips with disdain. “I’ve changed! I swear,” she pleads, her hands trembling slightly. It’s almost pathetic. “I have experience. Just... give me a chance.” I lean back, arms crossed. “You tormented me for years. Do you think I can just forget that?” Her face crumbles, the façade cracking. “I know. I was awful. But I’ve hit rock bottom. I need this.” “Why would I care?” I snap, feeling my old rage boiling back. Just then, my phone buzzes on the desk, breaking the tension. It’s a text from my mother. *Call me ASAP. I found something important a...
honestly, every time i hear about the train derailments in spain, it reminds me of that time i calculated how many months it would take to save for a spontaneous trip there—and that was three panic attacks ago. now i am left imagining myself standing at the train station, just an hour away from flamenco shows, while instead, my bank account is like an old train that completely derailed and no one ...