the way that everyone’s posting pictures of their new homes and fancy cars, it feels like i’m stuck in a reality show where the script was never written for me. meanwhile, i’m just here with my trusty barista’s smile, pretending their warm energy is my upgrade. i’ve even started practicing my reactions to good news that never arrives. do i jump up and down? throw confetti? instead, i just nod and ...
i pretended to have a job promotion just to impress my friends. no one knew i was actually swimming in debt and working a dead-end gig. now i send myself emails like i’m some big shot, but really i can’t afford my next meal. its wild how good i am at lying about my life while desperately hoping no one finds out im just a mess with bills stacked like my last few failed attempts at adulting.
not gonna lie, i have this overwhelming weight of knowing a secret that would literally ruin a relationship, but also destroy mine in the process. i see the love they have for each other and it feels like a beautiful painting, except i’m the artist who knows it’s just splatters underneath, waiting to come out.
not gonna lie, i have this overwhelming weight of knowing a secret that would literally ruin a relationship, but also destroy mine in the process. i see the love they have for each other and it feels like a beautiful painting, except i’m the artist who knows it’s just splatters underneath, waiting to come out.
wait—everyone is celebrating how their favorite teams are performing in the Paulistão while I'm here feeling like a ghost in my own life. like, how is it that my friends find time for all this excitement when I can’t even remember the last time I felt seen by someone? nobody understands the loneliness creeping in, like it's its own player on my field, while I'm stuck on the bench. #PaulistaA1 #lon...