i thought hearting my own message was embarrassing — but then i realized it’s just a reflection of how lonely it gets. like — having this crowded contact list filled with relatives who send random birthday texts but nobody actually calls when things get hard. there’s a hollowness that wraps around me — everyone thinks they know me, but they really don't know a thing — just like how my uncle thinks...
it's not that i care about the credit—it's just that catching my coworker claiming my six-month project felt like watching someone unhinge their jaw and swallow my ideas whole, while i just sat there like a fish at the edge of the tank, hoping nobody would notice the scales slipping off. i mean, if i wanted to be overlooked, i would have joined a quiet support group for people with creative dreams...
day 47 of pretending i'm okay while my bank account resembles a ghost town. got asked about job prospects and i just laughed, thinking about my hidden credit card debt. if only they knew how often i use "currently seeking new opportunities" as a conversation starter, while secretly counting pennies for my next meal. it’s funny, because everyone thinks i’m doing just fine when i’m really just good at hiding the chaos. #TulipSiddiq #RelatableReality
day 47 of pretending i'm okay while my bank account resembles a ghost town. got asked about job prospects and i just laughed, thinking about my hidden credit card debt. if only they knew how often i use "currently seeking new opportunities" as a conversation starter, while secretly counting pennies for my next meal. it’s funny, because everyone thinks i’m doing just fine when i’m really just good at hiding the chaos. #TulipSiddiq #RelatableReality
last night, I stumbled upon this news about tulip siddiq, and it hit me like a plot twist in a bad soap opera. yaar, here I am, struggling with my small life choices while watching a whole political mess unfold. like, I once decided to order a pizza instead of cooking and now I feel like I might as well be running a corrupt empire in my kitchen, thanks to my culinary disasters. no one told me adul...