it's 3am and I keep replaying my cousin's wedding in my mind. everyone was buzzing about career milestones and home ownership. meanwhile, I felt like I was sitting in a room full of trophies that I never won. it's hard to explain to my parents that my life is valid even without the shiny accomplishments they obsess over. every family gathering feels like a quiz show, and I'm always the contestant ...
not gonna lie, i used to think adulthood meant making decisions, but it’s really just about perfecting the art of avoiding eye contact with the barista while counting how many pennies i have left, like i’m trying to remember if i should actually buy a coffee or just drink water for the third day in a row. i’m like, if only my existential crisis could be paid in exposure, i’d be rich.
literally, every time I’m invited to a family gathering, it feels like a competitive sport where the prize is the least amount of judgment. while my siblings and cousins shine like polished trophies, I’m hiding behind excuses, dodging the inevitable interrogation about my ‘career success.’ I don’t say it out loud, but part of me wonders if I’d be better off just starting a cult or a potato farm; anything to escape the weight of their disappointed faces. but in the end, I realized it’s not just them I’m disappointing; it’s the version of me I created to fit their expectations.
literally, every time I’m invited to a family gathering, it feels like a competitive sport where the prize is the least amount of judgment. while my siblings and cousins shine like polished trophies, I’m hiding behind excuses, dodging the inevitable interrogation about my ‘career success.’ I don’t say it out loud, but part of me wonders if I’d be better off just starting a cult or a potato farm; anything to escape the weight of their disappointed faces. but in the end, I realized it’s not just them I’m disappointing; it’s the version of me I created to fit their expectations.
last night, I finally opened up about how much I love painting. the colors, the mess, the escape. but when I think about it, nobody knows my secret. those canvases I create? they are all filled with cheap paint because I can't afford the good stuff. I pretend I'm this art guru but I'm just a broke soul trying to express what feels like a rich life. people admire my work but if they knew I have to ...