it's not that i'm obsessed, it's just... i stumbled upon these old texts from my last job—like when we actually had energy and thought maybe, just maybe, we could *change the world* or something. i found this one from my boss, rambling about making it big—like we were some sort of tech disruptors, probably brainstorming a way to sell lemonade to larry ellison himself. the reality? i barely get out...
last night, i found myself googling 'most unusual hobbies' after feeling low-key uninspired by life—think making miniature furniture or training pigeons. then it hit me—what if my real hobby is creating dramatic scenarios in my mind, like a soap opera, but just for myself, full of HIGH STAKES and RIDICULOUS CLIFFHANGERS, like what if i got injured while trying to parallel park my imaginary car on ...
literally just found out the chef I defended at the fancy restaurant was spitting in my food the whole time. it was honestly a culinary love affair gone wrong. he thought our passionate debate about the art of soufflé was intimate. nope, just a set-up for my next bout of food poisoning.
literally just found out the chef I defended at the fancy restaurant was spitting in my food the whole time. it was honestly a culinary love affair gone wrong. he thought our passionate debate about the art of soufflé was intimate. nope, just a set-up for my next bout of food poisoning.
it’s two a.m. and I just calculated that if I had chosen chocolate pudding over tapioca in high school, my life would be COMPLETELY different. I would probably be a world-renowned dessert influencer by now. instead, I am sitting alone on my couch, planning my next big move with a fifteen-minute speech about how tapioca has robbed me of happiness. guess I will always be haunted by those little gela...