it's not that i get tired easily—it's just that the existential dread from waiting for my soup to boil hits differently now. last week, i stared at a piece of toast for fifteen minutes before realizing i was mad at it for being a less fulfilling companion than the fictional love interests in my poorly written rom-com fantasies. it turns out being an adult means knowing your microwave settings bett...
are you ever just sitting alone, thinking about how you left everything behind for a 'better life'? yaar, it's been two years since i moved to this city for a job. made zero real friends and sometimes, when i hear about the Epstein files and all these connections to power, i wonder if i sold my soul for nothing. matlab, i'm struggling in a city filled with faceless crowds while politicians play ga...
you ever sit in your favorite chair, sipping cold tea, and realize you turned your whole self into a glorified set piece for someone else’s story? they’re out there living their best life, probably adopting another plant or buying that stupidly expensive lamp, while you’re buried under existential clutter. am i supposed to just accept that my ideas now come with their name at the top? and here i am, hoping a sock left on the floor can somehow symbolize a revolution in my dating life, which clearly needs a reboot. does anyone else just laugh at the absurdity of all of it, or is it just me?
you ever sit in your favorite chair, sipping cold tea, and realize you turned your whole self into a glorified set piece for someone else’s story? they’re out there living their best life, probably adopting another plant or buying that stupidly expensive lamp, while you’re buried under existential clutter. am i supposed to just accept that my ideas now come with their name at the top? and here i am, hoping a sock left on the floor can somehow symbolize a revolution in my dating life, which clearly needs a reboot. does anyone else just laugh at the absurdity of all of it, or is it just me?
it’s not that i care about Cristiano Ronaldo or whatever. like, it’s just that my family group chat feels like they are all plotting a coup over who gets to be the *real* Ronaldo. my dad sends updates about Al Nassr like he’s part of the team, and meanwhile, I’m over here like, do they even realize i forgot my lunch twice this week? and i’m pretty sure my cousin is taking notes on how to be the be...