People are either one of two: a headache or stomach ache haver. I’ve been the first one for days now and I want to lose my mind. I can handle a stomach ache.. a roll around on my bed, a couple of ancient Eastern medicine stomach massages, a tall glass of water, and a nap later the pain is gone. But with a headache, all I want to do is smash my head again and again on a table and obliterate into a million pieces—me: I’m the object breaking, not the table or the tempting mirror
My phone is charging at the moment, I went to reach for it to see if I had any notes for the day. So we’ll wing today:
The Bear, season 2 was mid. The directors did a closeup of faces, focusing on the stories and lives behind the characters. I think it cost the charm of what made me fall in love with the show in the first place. Either way, Yes Chef
Don’t fall in love. I kid. But really if you have dreams, goals, don’t fall in love. it’s a huge distraction. still want kids though.. how can i get kids and not fall in love? Why would I even think that, it just sounds sad.
The biggest life decision anyone will make is their life partner. Don’t f up!
plan: I want to be married by mid-next year and have kid(s) by the following year. I’ve written it on my metaphysical stone, where once written it comes true. So out of sight out of mind. Perhaps x3
I hate that I laughed
A catfisher is using a male friend’s photo. It takes gold for the most amusingly depressing thing I’ve heard all year. The lengths people go to entrap hopeless others. It must be some sick mental psychotic self-loathing complex that convinces them the other person won’t find out. Like reverse voyeurism ← that doesn’t make sense… wouldn’t that just be modesty? I’m losing track of what I was saying… Anyway, why catfish?
What’s worse is I know it can happen to anyone, to the best of us. But it’s the cost of posting your photos online—a sign that says “free pics, come and take them” with every face post. sadge
I was called iconic and it’s burrowing a hole in my mind. Like why the fck would you call me that? It’s like when you go bowling and your friends start yelling and saying silly stuff to mess you up. It feels like that.
Ego check: “Here’s your number.” *looks down at a blank stub*
My lil overthinky train is derailed in my brain. Iconic, because I’m sure of myself?! nah that’s the anxiety-talking… I say the first—room appropriate—thing that comes to mind. That’s it. And I try not to live with regrets.
I feel like I need to strengthen my wards, ugh