i sat on my tiny balcony in this crumbling apartment, my friends are moving into their shiny new places, making more in a month than i make in a year, while i clutch my cheap phone wondering if my visa will ever feel like more than just a chain, feeling so lost watching everyone else build their lives while im just... stuck here.
yaar, samjho na please, 10 saal tak khud ko sambhalte rahe ghar banane ke liye aur ab government ne kyunki highway chalu karna tha mera sapna ek pal mein tod diya - aur compensation hai bas ek paanchwa, waah bhai waah, koi samjhata nahi.
got the cancer diagnosis and before my doctor could even say “hello,” the billing department is on the line asking about my insurance like they are doing some kind of bizarre life-and-death credit check — it’s like they think my cancer comes with a discount code or something. can someone explain why it feels like getting sick turns you into a new form of adult where you spend more time talking to bureaucrats than getting actual care?
got the cancer diagnosis and before my doctor could even say “hello,” the billing department is on the line asking about my insurance like they are doing some kind of bizarre life-and-death credit check — it’s like they think my cancer comes with a discount code or something. can someone explain why it feels like getting sick turns you into a new form of adult where you spend more time talking to bureaucrats than getting actual care?
scrolled through all 347 contacts at 2am like a hostage with a phone looking for someone to call but ended up feeling like i was browsing a cursed museum of awkward interactions and unreturned texts, just me and my anxiety like wow cool no one i want to bother, neat... maybe i should just talk to the fridge instead.