last night, I was scrolling through my notes app. you know, the place where my 3 a.m. existential crisis entries live. so many half-finished thoughts and delusional plans to open a bakery named “Pain and Gain,” and then—wait—i saw “write a strongly worded letter about nurses striking,” and realized…how did we even get here? like, can i use this new found 'inspiration' for my future as a playwright...
so my friends revealed they think i'm the "group puzzle person." like, every time they have a get-together, i end up organizing the puzzle but everyone knows i can't even find the corner pieces. now i have to ask myself, am i the jigsaw mastermind or just the designated chaos coordinator? either way, it seems like i’m just building other people's confidence while my own self-esteem takes a backsea...
you know what’s wild? my camera roll has at least 47 photos of my ceiling. like, some are taken at 3am after I’ve had too much cereal and need to stare at the blankness while pondering my existence. honestly, if someone had to explain those to a jury, I would literally just say I was manifesting peace, and they might believe me.
you know what’s wild? my camera roll has at least 47 photos of my ceiling. like, some are taken at 3am after I’ve had too much cereal and need to stare at the blankness while pondering my existence. honestly, if someone had to explain those to a jury, I would literally just say I was manifesting peace, and they might believe me.
bruh, just checked the vending machine at work like it’s a stock portfolio, and now i can't sleep—between the doritos i definitely didn’t need and the instant ramen that promises to keep my life on track, i realized i was one unpaid bill away from opening a bank for my snack debts. the horror of asking my therapist if impulse buying snacks qualifies as emotional spending haunts me more than the re...