it’s not that i’m nervous about my rishta, it’s just… having to serve chai while they size up my life feels like a twisted audition. matlab, i’m over here in my best salwar kameez, praying they won’t notice my uni dropout status or that my Instagram is filled with memes, not professional accolades — but they’re judging like it’s the Premier League finals. meanwhile, i'm just waiting for the moment...
no because the way my family thinks getting married will fix my mental health is just wild, yaar. like, look at Aditi Rao Hydari, achha, she shines with her husband by her side, right? meanwhile, I can barely shine with a stable wifi connection and I’m just here pretending to have it all figured out while hiding my anxiety like it's some shameful secret. the last guy I dated ran away when he saw m...
it's funny how everyone tells you to leave, yet here I am, glued to the hot mess like a moth to a flame. I mean, do I even want better? or do I just like the thrill of impending disaster? it’s like watching a reality show unfold in real time—who knew dysfunction could be so addictive? and honestly, at least the drama beats watching paint dry at this point, right?
it's funny how everyone tells you to leave, yet here I am, glued to the hot mess like a moth to a flame. I mean, do I even want better? or do I just like the thrill of impending disaster? it’s like watching a reality show unfold in real time—who knew dysfunction could be so addictive? and honestly, at least the drama beats watching paint dry at this point, right?
literally, I thought thirty was a distant universe, like a black hole where dreams go to die. but now it’s right around the corner, and honestly, I just got my heart broken by a Brazilian striker signing while I’m still trying to figure out how to take out the trash without feeling like I’ve failed at adulting. I don’t know what’s scarier— the idea of being older, or the fact that a group of young...