honestly, I just remembered I promised to join my cousin’s roller derby team — three weeks ago — and all I can think about is how unathletic I am, which is probably why I’m emailing myself “remember to train” while in a recliner covered in Cheetos dust. like, what did I even expect? the only thing I’m good at is dramatic falls—most of which have already happened in my kitchen, so why would I sudde...
not gonna lie, sometimes i wake up convinced i’ve been living in a long-term, low-budget documentary where the plot twist is that everyone around me knows i can’t fold a fitted sheet. like, at my last adulting workshop, they all nod and pretend my struggle is “relatable.” meanwhile, i’m just over here silently considering taking up residence in a pillow fort.
the way that i got into a heated debate with a stranger over a random fan account about a character who isn’t even real just says everything about my priorities. i spent thirty minutes defending the fictional character's questionable life choices while my laundry sat there, untouched, and now the socks are conspiring against me. like, who knew the stakes could get so high over a cartoon who probably doesn’t even remember my name?
the way that i got into a heated debate with a stranger over a random fan account about a character who isn’t even real just says everything about my priorities. i spent thirty minutes defending the fictional character's questionable life choices while my laundry sat there, untouched, and now the socks are conspiring against me. like, who knew the stakes could get so high over a cartoon who probably doesn’t even remember my name?
day 22 of my family's relentless inquiries about my ex, and at this point, i am actively considering crafting a detailed PowerPoint presentation, complete with pie charts and graphs showing how my current partner has a *twice* better coffee preference than my ex—who only ever drank chamomile. as my mom mentions their “adorable little quirks,” my current partner stands awkwardly behind me, expertly...