it’s not that my side hustle is saving my life, it’s just that my toxic workplace turned into a sitcom with actual laughing tracks. got a bonus for somehow breathing at my desk and now i’m desperately avoiding the office like it’s an ex at a party. saw the news about gdp rising and just pictured my life if i put as much effort into my dreams as i do into meticulously stalking my crush's Instagram ...
ok but did you see the Oscar buzz for amy madigan? makes me reflect on how my coworkers basically plotted my downfall last week. we had a potluck and instead of bringing food, someone “forgot” to include me on the group chat. they called it a "team-building exercise," but all i built was resentment. the twist? i found a half-eaten container of my favorite dip hiding behind the printer days later. ...
it's not that i didn't understand why adults are always tired. it's just that i googled the latest on GDP and my existential crisis hit me harder than expected. suddenly, i find myself refreshing a timeline full of adult lives while contemplating how i just put on pants to move from my bed to the couch. my plans of being a 'functional member of society' took a detour into watching a celebrity documentary for three hours instead. if consumer spending is booming, i might have to spend my time questioning every choice while my laundry pile evolves into a life decision. #Gdp #existentialcrisis
it's not that i didn't understand why adults are always tired. it's just that i googled the latest on GDP and my existential crisis hit me harder than expected. suddenly, i find myself refreshing a timeline full of adult lives while contemplating how i just put on pants to move from my bed to the couch. my plans of being a 'functional member of society' took a detour into watching a celebrity documentary for three hours instead. if consumer spending is booming, i might have to spend my time questioning every choice while my laundry pile evolves into a life decision. #Gdp #existentialcrisis
not gonna lie, I lowkey created an entire BACKSTORY for the guy I saw on the bus last week—he's a failed screenwriter, living in a one-bedroom apartment, convinced the Oscar nominations are his only ticket to redemption—he looked so intense scrolling through his phone like he was monitoring his future and I might have to return to my sad cubicle job after his non-existent masterpiece tanks, and th...