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Every like, every comment on my TikTok brings forth instant validation. As I am writing this, I’m also brainstorming new ideas to extend my fifteen minutes of fame: should me and my roommate “break up”, or should we keep on playing the game?
How does anyone, with a busy work schedule and social life, actually eat three square meals a day? Should I pay a doctor or therapist to answer these questions, or should I continue to spiral in the confines of my (now public) thoughts?
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While I do spend a lot of time taking care of Dunn, he does far more for me than I do for him. Beyond the obvious cuteness the tiny joyful bundle of fur provides his surroundings, there’s the overwhelming sense of positivity all around him.
I’m grateful for many things: my wonderful friends, the promise of a beautiful autumn and the $5 Daily Devil Deal at Sazón. But, right now, I’m most grateful for sunlight.
I hate the moment you look at a blank page, and suddenly, words are supposed to flow, as if by some magical force. I hate the emptiness staring back at me as nothing comes to mind. I hate the openness of writing, your inner thoughts suddenly being known.
Is Addison Rae just “another party girl bimbo,” or are we just quick to hate on her because she challenges our preconceptions about making it in Hollywood? Do we simply hate influencers because they upend the myth of meritocracy?
It didn’t concern me much to be having a second pandemic birthday, but the realization that a full, quantifiable year of my life had passed and I could account for so little of it did not sit well.
Our world is not a mystery novel.
Being hot is not correlated with a size or measurement or price tag — it is about self-assurance.
But as it is, I am grateful that this unfavourable situation has regaled me with a new form of travel
So this week has been particularly jarring.
I like my life better now, I think — and yet, sometimes I feel like I could spend hours lying in bed, listening to music, scrolling through photos, drilling deeper into some unreachable past.
I feel like I should know Earl Grey.
Clearly, there is a lot wrong with Western classical music.
Why do we watch movies?
Maybe she just loved herself too much. Maybe she was just not brave enough. Maybe she was afraid to find out that no relationship could ever live up to her expectations, not even her parents’.
Unfortunately for my young nerves, the entire “Final Destination” franchise hinges on the premise that no matter how closely you examine the world for signs, no matter how many premonitions you experience, no matter how tightly you hold onto your loved one, you and everyone you know will eventually die.
Still, if I was the star of a TV show, I wonder how low its ratings would have plummeted during the past eight months of the pandemic.
Not only was exploring nature one of the few activities approved of in my state during quarantine, it also seemed like a great reprieve from the insane amount of time I had spent cooped up in my house.
