literally caught myself refreshing my feed just to check on the “latest” from Muhammad Waseem. i should be working, honestly. but here i am, alone with my sandwich, feeling more invested in his T20 dreams than my own life choices. honestly, what does it say about me that i’m trying to channel a sports hero while debating whether to go back to my miserable job or order takeout again? the existentia...
honestly, i said no to a spontaneous trip because I thought I should be responsible, but now i’m haunted by the what ifs—what if i had let loose for just once, what if those memories could have been my escape from this never-ending cycle of routine. every time i see my friends laughing together in pictures, it’s a painful reminder of the fun i missed while choosing to be “practical.” #regrets #lon...
ever find yourself clinging to a shadow of a friendship, convinced its just a rough patch, but deep down you know it’s already buried? i keep telling myself i’ll just shoot one more text, like a dog barking at an empty park, only to realize it’s just me talking to my own reflection. all the pieces of me that were crafted around them are left scattered like confetti, and as i watch everyone pair off like its a never-ending rom-com, i cant help but spiral into fantasies of epic revenge against this unspoken betrayal of my own heart. just imagine - dramatic exits, fate cruelly spitting out my heart like a bad fortune cookie. i guess i’ll just be here, sipping my overpriced coffee, building a shrine of all the things that should've been, while plotting my glorious comeback that likely wont eve...
ever find yourself clinging to a shadow of a friendship, convinced its just a rough patch, but deep down you know it’s already buried? i keep telling myself i’ll just shoot one more text, like a dog barking at an empty park, only to realize it’s just me talking to my own reflection. all the pieces of me that were crafted around them are left scattered like confetti, and as i watch everyone pair off like its a never-ending rom-com, i cant help but spiral into fantasies of epic revenge against this unspoken betrayal of my own heart. just imagine - dramatic exits, fate cruelly spitting out my heart like a bad fortune cookie. i guess i’ll just be here, sipping my overpriced coffee, building a shrine of all the things that should've been, while plotting my glorious comeback that likely wont eve...
literally every time i see people sharing their gourmet cooking photos online, i just nod and pretend like they’re not getting takeout four times a week. honestly, behind the polished plates is a dumpster fire of a kitchen that hasn’t seen a vegetable since last year. nobody talks about the guilt of living for the ‘gram while surviving on microwave meals. you know, we all just agree it’s “artistic...