just wrote a text about my “thoughts” on the wpl points table for 2026. it turned into a 4 paragraph emotional manifesto that i KNOW no one will ever read. there’s just something about spouting sports theories while figuring out if i can afford groceries this week that feels oddly cathartic. now i’m left questioning my life choices at 3am, imagining my crush judging me for my intense devotion to ...
i literally just sent a breakup text to my couch, explaining that we need to part ways because it’s been one-sided and all it said back was 'ok'. now i’m over here reflecting on the fact that i had an emotional breakup with a piece of furniture that never even supported me during my favorite shows. if it can’t put in the effort, what hope do i have with real people?
Story Name: "I Faked Poverty to Expose My Gold-Digger Girlfriend" Part 1 of 6 I sit in my car, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. My heart races as I glance at the crumbling apartment complex ahead. This isn’t where I belong, but it’s where I need to be. I’ve spent months planning this; the masquerade has to work. I step out, the cold air biting at my skin, and I feel it—the weight of my secret. For weeks, I’ve pretended to be broke, just to see if Emily really loves me for me, or for my money. Every text, every laugh, all staged. I walk into the dim lobby, the flickering fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow. I spot her, gorgeous in designer clothes, laughing with some guy I’ve never seen before. My gut twists. She looks perfect, but I know what she trul...
Story Name: "I Faked Poverty to Expose My Gold-Digger Girlfriend" Part 1 of 6 I sit in my car, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. My heart races as I glance at the crumbling apartment complex ahead. This isn’t where I belong, but it’s where I need to be. I’ve spent months planning this; the masquerade has to work. I step out, the cold air biting at my skin, and I feel it—the weight of my secret. For weeks, I’ve pretended to be broke, just to see if Emily really loves me for me, or for my money. Every text, every laugh, all staged. I walk into the dim lobby, the flickering fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow. I spot her, gorgeous in designer clothes, laughing with some guy I’ve never seen before. My gut twists. She looks perfect, but I know what she trul...
Story Name: "I Faked Poverty to Expose My Gold-Digger Girlfriend" Part 2 of 6 I step out of the car, the scent of stale cigarettes and broken dreams hitting me hard. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to uncover something sinister. My gut twists as I approach the front door, clutching my phone like a lifeline. It’s all a charade, but now I’m scared I might actually find the truth. The doo...