bruh, I just found out my gym playlist includes Phil Salt's interviews instead of workout beats. now I’m lifting weights thinking about how I’m not even the salt in the family dish, more like a sad grain of rice no one asks for. maybe if I wear my brother's jersey during the next game, the universe will throw me a bone. does being second best give you the right to eat leftover pizza? just saying. ...
wait, remember when i said i would never become a person who uses spreadsheets for their daily tasks? here i am, analyzing my life choices with color-coded cells like some kind of executive on the brink of a midlife crisis. instead of figuring out my dreams, i just added a pie chart about my snack consumption. who knew my life would peak at ‘chocolate intake vs. motivation levels’?
yooo, so I literally quit my cushy job to chase my dream of making artisanal ice cubes. like, fancy shapes and flavors, you know? but now, as I stare at my empty fridge, the only thing getting filled is my regret—because apparently, nobody cares about cube aesthetics when there’s no paycheck involved. I mean, am I really supposed to sell ‘cucumber-lavender’ ice cubes at farmers' markets? who thought this was a good idea?
yooo, so I literally quit my cushy job to chase my dream of making artisanal ice cubes. like, fancy shapes and flavors, you know? but now, as I stare at my empty fridge, the only thing getting filled is my regret—because apparently, nobody cares about cube aesthetics when there’s no paycheck involved. I mean, am I really supposed to sell ‘cucumber-lavender’ ice cubes at farmers' markets? who thought this was a good idea?
last night, i literally spent more on a tiny rubber duck that looks like a famous historical figure than i do on actual essentials like toilet paper or food. like, what is wrong with me? am i really gonna sit there in my empty pantry, smiling at “Benjamin Franklin” float by in my bathtub? at this point, i should just invite him to dinner.