yaar, matlab samjho na, basant festival ke khabarein sun ke dil se lagta hai sabki life itni colorful hai. meri dost ne second car liya aur mai bas gaadi dekhte hue basant ki kite udaane ki kahani sun rahi thi. mujhe yaad hai jab pichli baar sabne mila tha, unki zindagi itni shiny hai, aur mai bus apni purani jeans mein akele sochti thi ki kahan se shuru karun, jab mai khud apne basics ke liye str...
day 47 of watching friends celebrate basant while my kites remain tangled in life’s mess. they’re sharing posts about new homes and vacations. meanwhile, i’m still figuring out how to afford snacks without feeling guilty. the colors in their lives look so vibrant—like the kites that soar overhead—while mine feels muted and heavy, caught in a string of anxiety. this festival reminds me of all the c...
so im sitting here, rearranging my vinyl collection while obsessing over someone who probably doesn't even remember my birthday, and I can't help but think how ridiculous it is that I'm putting my favorite albums in order of sadness—like that’s gonna win them back or something. im over here emotionally curating playlists for them, while they probably couldn’t even name a single song i made them, and it’s like…what even is this sad little game? it’s just me and my turntable, getting rejected by my own echo while the silence laughs in my face. how did I turn my passion for music into a personal lament?
so im sitting here, rearranging my vinyl collection while obsessing over someone who probably doesn't even remember my birthday, and I can't help but think how ridiculous it is that I'm putting my favorite albums in order of sadness—like that’s gonna win them back or something. im over here emotionally curating playlists for them, while they probably couldn’t even name a single song i made them, and it’s like…what even is this sad little game? it’s just me and my turntable, getting rejected by my own echo while the silence laughs in my face. how did I turn my passion for music into a personal lament?
honestly, my 'best friend' only texts me when they need me to solve a problem or provide a last-minute favor. they’ll go on and on about the latest trendy book they claim to love, but I know they only skimmed the first chapter before texting me to borrow it. it makes me wonder if I’m just the free support system in their personal chaos, while I can’t even get a 'how are you?' on my birthday.