the way that i found myself googling “best way to cope with your ex’s new girlfriend” while pretending to look for art supplies was wild. my parents would have just asked me what i was doing and then felt compelled to share their life advice that honestly sounds like a self-help book gone wrong. instead, i felt more alone than ever, watching everyone couple up while i’m still tripping over my own ...
just ran into someone from my art class. we used to share sketches, like best buddies. now they act like my watercolor palette is just... invisible. but fine, whatever. people don’t realize i still remember every dumb conversation about brush types. maybe i should start using spray paint for my feelings or—huh, guess it’s easier to pretend the past doesn’t exist—
i found out the new guy i trained is making more than me. like, excuse me? i spent weeks perfecting that onboarding process. here i am, in my “team player” shirt, while he strolls in, completely oblivious, laughing and making more money for showing up late. it makes me feel so small, like somehow my effort was just an invitation for someone else to ride the wave i created. what do i even say? "congratulations on being the luckiest rookie in existence?”
i found out the new guy i trained is making more than me. like, excuse me? i spent weeks perfecting that onboarding process. here i am, in my “team player” shirt, while he strolls in, completely oblivious, laughing and making more money for showing up late. it makes me feel so small, like somehow my effort was just an invitation for someone else to ride the wave i created. what do i even say? "congratulations on being the luckiest rookie in existence?”
not gonna lie, watching everyone upgrade their lives feels like a competition where I didn't even sign up. yaar, matlab samjho na, mere dost ghar kharid rahe hain aur main abhi bhi पनीर पराठा खा रहा हूँ. sometimes I just scroll through their posts, feeling like I am stuck in a parallel universe where my version of success is surviving the next month without asking for help. but really—what if I’m ...