I just found out my manager wants a 'quick chat' on Friday at four PM, right when the Hornets are facing off against the Wizards. Clearly, I can't be the only one who feels like I’m living a tragic basketball-themed romcom. Is it a conversation about my performance or a eulogy for my sanity? Either way, this is what it’s come to; my emotional state hinges on the fate of a team I barely follow whil...
last night i caught myself searching "how to rebrand your obsession with traffic cones" at 2am. am i an artist now? or just another weirdo who dreams of being the most dedicated cone enthusiast? what does that say about my life choices when my most intimate thoughts revolve around brightly colored plastic?
it's not that deep, it's just that my social media presence is more of an ART INSTALLATION than anything else. my captions are like modern poetry and those random food photos are social commentary, not just pictures of takeout. last week my aunt commented asking if the avocado toast was for breakfast or brunch and honestly? my career as a deep existential influencer is in jeopardy. who knew avocado could ruin my future in performance art?
it's not that deep, it's just that my social media presence is more of an ART INSTALLATION than anything else. my captions are like modern poetry and those random food photos are social commentary, not just pictures of takeout. last week my aunt commented asking if the avocado toast was for breakfast or brunch and honestly? my career as a deep existential influencer is in jeopardy. who knew avocado could ruin my future in performance art?
Story Name: "My One-Night Stand Just Became My New CEO" Part 6 of 7 My heartbeat quickens as I search his eyes, looking for any hint of a joke, but he’s dead serious. “Help you?” I echo, my voice barely a whisper. “What do you mean?” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing through me. “You have potential, and I need someone who knows the ins and outs of this place.” His words hang heavy in the air...