i poured my soul into this text, crafted every word like i was a poet, and then i got back a single emoji—i mean, did i just bare my heart for a smiley face? feels like applying for a promotion and getting told i’m not even qualified for the coffee run. as if scott tolzien's future as a coach has any relevance to my life when the only call i get is my boss asking if i can work late again. could re...
last night, i stared in the bathroom mirror and saw my parents looking back. it was weird. they were both wearing matching turtlenecks and... talking about a vacation they never took. then i remembered, they didn’t vacation; they just avoided talking about their feelings. who needs a therapist when you have genetic trauma staring back at you in a fluffy wool blend?
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