it’s 3am and my last meal was a pack of ramen, which now feels like a luxury. last weekend’s impulse buy of a ten-dollar candle has morphed into this monstrous regret, mocking me every time i glance at it. everyone thinks i’m living this cute, curated life, but they don’t know i check my bank account like it’s some kind of horror movie every single morning. if i could just harness the power of my ...
ok but sometimes I wonder if losing someone meant I just lost the plot too. I built my entire world around their laughter, their quirks, their late-night snacks—then they just... vanished. now I’m watching everyone pair up like I’m on some cruel game show, and I’m still stuck in the waiting room, alone, playing revenge fantasies against my own reflection.