feelin blurry

a slow life, a life without rush, a life without deadlines, a life solely made up of early slow mornings.

Me: mentally drafts Oscar-worthy replies to everyone in my head, complete with plot twists and dramatic pauses

Also me: never actually sends them because serotonin went on an extended vacation.

Now I’m just here, unintentionally auditioning for the role of bad Person with a side of running on pure existential dread and vibes. Like, what even is this life ehh.

When I reread what I've written, I feel like I'm swallowing my own vomit.

Philosophy and classic literature are great if you can't afford therapy but nothing's been right since 😂

My toxic trait is that I loved him before the character development!! -Listen up lizards- we’re not the same...

Don’t you just hate it when you arrive at work and realise you’ve forgotten to bring your will to live?