last night, i poured my heart out in a breakup text, meticulously crafting each line like a personal sonnet. they replied with “ok.” so, naturally, i’ve decided this is the universe telling me to manifest my inner novak djokovic and win this love match back—plot twist, they probably never even cared, like that time djokovic lost the first set and went on to dominate. here i am, deep in denial, con...
not gonna lie, I once went to a "mystical experiences" event thinking I’d unlock my inner spiritual guru. instead, I spent an hour with a woman named Celeste who insisted her cat could communicate with the dead. it sounded kind of crazy until she pulled out a crystal that cost more than my last three meals combined, and then she wanted to “open my third eye” while talking about a conspiracy theory...
I thought I could save for a treadmill, so I sat down, calculator in hand, all set to become the next fitness guru. But then I realized it would take ten months of ramen noodles, three fewer pairs of socks, and an uncomfortable amount of not going out ever. Sorry, couch, I guess you’ll have to keep being my fitness companion instead of my couch companion because I am doomed to marathon... Netflix.
I thought I could save for a treadmill, so I sat down, calculator in hand, all set to become the next fitness guru. But then I realized it would take ten months of ramen noodles, three fewer pairs of socks, and an uncomfortable amount of not going out ever. Sorry, couch, I guess you’ll have to keep being my fitness companion instead of my couch companion because I am doomed to marathon... Netflix.
wait, I just realized I made eye contact with a stranger while watching the Australian Open—and now I’m daydreaming about planning a wedding? Am I really that desperate, or was it the way they cheered for Djokovic after he got broken that got to me? Because, honestly, now I'm contemplating a life where I plan my “sudden” nuptials, just based on a fleeting glance—and let me tell you, my actual part...