last night, i realized i wrote a whole acceptance speech for an award i never won. it had a heartfelt thank you to the janitor for cleaning my daydreams. i even imagined my long-lost uncle showing up to finally acknowledge my existence. then, halfway through my emotional triumph, i tripped over my own words and thought… what if i just become an award-winning potato instead?
So, my family found my secret account where I write poetry about sandwiches and now I have to explain how an Italian hoagie can symbolize the complexities of life choices. I thought it was clever but now everyone thinks I need therapy for an existential crisis rooted in lunch meats. #SandwichPhilosophy #FamilyDrama
So I just sent my entire laundry schedule to the group chat instead of to my mom. It includes darks, lights, and that one really weird hand-wash only sweater I absolutely love but probably shouldn’t even own, and now my friends are discussing the emotional weight of the fabric softener I use.
So I just sent my entire laundry schedule to the group chat instead of to my mom. It includes darks, lights, and that one really weird hand-wash only sweater I absolutely love but probably shouldn’t even own, and now my friends are discussing the emotional weight of the fabric softener I use.
it’s not that I can’t sleep, it’s just that I keep replaying this imaginary interview with my childhood crush who never even knew I existed. do you think they would ask me about my career success? what if I confidently told them about my podcast about inflatable furniture? do I even need a podcast? I’m literally just sitting here crafting this delusional narrative while wondering how my obsession ...