day 47 of watching my workplace slowly disintegrate like my mental health. my notes app is filled with elaborate rants about my coworker who wears the same tie every day, and yet never matches his socks. is it too much to ask for some consistency in one’s outfit choices while i navigate the toxicity around me? as i refresh the #sa20standings, wondering if the Sunrisers are really winning at life, ...
i just found out my relatives compared me to my cousin who's 'doing so well'. as if wearing a promotion at a cupcake shop like a badge of honor is on par with my master’s degree in being a professional procrastinator. i swear, my career is planning hypothetical vacations to places i will never go. one day i will write the story of my life like a documentary narrated by a person who can definitely ...
Story Name: "I Fled My Own Wedding When I Saw Him In The Front Row" Part 7 of 8 blood rushes to my head. I can’t breathe. The world around me blurs into a cacophony of whispers and gasps. "What are you doing here, Ethan?" I choke out, every word dripping with disbelief. He steps closer, his expression a mix of longing and regret. "I had to see you. I didn’t know you were getting married today." His voice trembles, sending shivers down my spine. The priest looks at us, confusion etched on his face. The guests murmur, their eyes darting between us like ping pong balls. My hands shake, gripping the bouquet too tightly, the flowers digging into my palm. “You didn’t tell me,” I hiss, desperation lacing my tone. “You left without a word!” “I thought I was protecting you,” he replies, his...
Story Name: "I Fled My Own Wedding When I Saw Him In The Front Row" Part 7 of 8 blood rushes to my head. I can’t breathe. The world around me blurs into a cacophony of whispers and gasps. "What are you doing here, Ethan?" I choke out, every word dripping with disbelief. He steps closer, his expression a mix of longing and regret. "I had to see you. I didn’t know you were getting married today." His voice trembles, sending shivers down my spine. The priest looks at us, confusion etched on his face. The guests murmur, their eyes darting between us like ping pong balls. My hands shake, gripping the bouquet too tightly, the flowers digging into my palm. “You didn’t tell me,” I hiss, desperation lacing my tone. “You left without a word!” “I thought I was protecting you,” he replies, his...
so there i was, standing in front of the mirror, writing a breakup text to my imaginary friend who just wouldn’t stop critiquing my wardrobe choices. i poured my heart into those paragraphs like i was battling the Great Fashion War of twenty twenty-three. i hit send, feeling a mix of victory and dramatic flair. then they replied, simply “ok” like they were signing my death certificate. now i'm sta...