literally, why did I just text my neighbor about their 1970s lawn gnome collection like we were best friends? now I'm sweating over those three dots like I just confessed my undying love for them. do I really care about lawn gnomes that much? is this how adults socialize now? I mean, should I go outside and start yelling compliments at their yard or something?
it’s three a.m. and I’m scrolling through videos of Shaquille O’Neal roasting Rudy Gobert like it’s my only source of caffeine—day 56 of feeling like a has-been. my boss casually announces “team-building activities” like it’s not a euphemism for all of us pretending we love our jobs while dying inside—where’s the justice? suddenly I realize—here I am, wearing pajama pants to my remote meetings, ra...
honestly, the way i’ve been apologizing for my existence since birth is getting OLD. my relatives throw parties where the drama is like an NBA game. meanwhile, i'm at the snack table, low-key wondering if caleb love was this humble before breaking out. and then my aunt, after five margaritas, screams at me for “still being single” like it’s a foul play. plot twist: i just forgot to return my mom’s casserole dish. at least caleb gets praised for hitting threes, while i can’t even score an invite to the next family gathering without a passive-aggressive text. #CalebLove #FamilyDrama
honestly, the way i’ve been apologizing for my existence since birth is getting OLD. my relatives throw parties where the drama is like an NBA game. meanwhile, i'm at the snack table, low-key wondering if caleb love was this humble before breaking out. and then my aunt, after five margaritas, screams at me for “still being single” like it’s a foul play. plot twist: i just forgot to return my mom’s casserole dish. at least caleb gets praised for hitting threes, while i can’t even score an invite to the next family gathering without a passive-aggressive text. #CalebLove #FamilyDrama
...so, like, I was trying to explain why I don't trust ceiling fans and somehow ended up telling everyone that I have a weird fear they’re secretly watching me and could literally drop me at any moment. Now my coworkers think I’m just a paranoid mess with a ceiling fan phobia, when really, I’m just trying to keep my delicate ice cream habit under control, like, honestly, it’s serious business.