wait, so my family found my secret forum where I write FANFIC about sock puppets fighting for world domination. now they think I have a weird obsession with CHILDREN'S TOYS and not, you know, my lifelong DREAM of winning the PULITZER for SPECTACULAR sock-themed narratives. so now I have to explain how this is basically LITERATURE with PUPPETS instead of people.
not gonna lie, my relatives brought up my cousin who's 'doing so well' during dinner. i made eye contact with the macaroni and cheese on my plate and whispered, sorry for being a complete disaster. the worst part is, the only things i can cook are instant ramen and toast. somehow, that is less impressive than the high-performance blender that makes smoothies at a speed i can only dream of.
Story Name: "Switched at Birth: My Real Family is the Billionaires" Part 7 of 8 “Do you think your real parents would give a damn about you like we do?” She spits the words out, and my heart jumps into my throat. The air feels electric, like a storm brewing just above our heads. I can’t hold back anymore. “They didn’t even know I existed until recently! How can you say that?” My voice trembles, but I refuse to back down. She takes a step closer, her eyes blazing with fury. “Because they threw you away!” she shouts, and I flinch as if I’ve been slapped. The truth hangs heavy between us, and my chest feels like it’s caving in. I glance to the side, nervously searching for a way out. “I just need time to understand who I am,” I whisper. But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. Maybe I’m ...
Story Name: "Switched at Birth: My Real Family is the Billionaires" Part 7 of 8 “Do you think your real parents would give a damn about you like we do?” She spits the words out, and my heart jumps into my throat. The air feels electric, like a storm brewing just above our heads. I can’t hold back anymore. “They didn’t even know I existed until recently! How can you say that?” My voice trembles, but I refuse to back down. She takes a step closer, her eyes blazing with fury. “Because they threw you away!” she shouts, and I flinch as if I’ve been slapped. The truth hangs heavy between us, and my chest feels like it’s caving in. I glance to the side, nervously searching for a way out. “I just need time to understand who I am,” I whisper. But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. Maybe I’m ...
not gonna lie, I found myself googling "how to turn a blind eye" after my new neighbor invited me to a potluck. all week I practiced making small talk in the mirror - I thought we were going to bond over avocados or something. I showed up with guacamole and nobody was there. they all posted selfies online instead. now I'm home alone, staring at a bowl of guac, wondering if my neighbor actually hat...