It starts small. You open your laptop to finish that one work task, but suddenly you’re deep into reorganizing your desktop folders, checking flight prices to nowhere, and watching a 17-minute video on “the psychology of medieval tavern design.” You…
It starts the same way for everyone. You’re scrolling through stories, half-bored, half-lonely, and suddenly someone posts one of those “Send me an anonymous compliment” links. You think it’s cringe. You think you’d never. Then your thumb hesitates. Because maybe…
Let’s be honest. Modern dating feels like running a social experiment with too many tabs open. You’ve got your notes app full of half-baked replies, your best selfie saved in three filters, and somewhere between “seen” and “ghosted,” you’re wondering…
It starts the same way every time. You send a message. Wait. Glance at the screen again, then pretend you didn’t.That tiny blue tick sits there like a dare. The silence after a “Seen” feels louder than any ringtone. And…
Some people post gym selfies. Some post latte art. You? You quietly carry the emotional Wi-Fi that keeps everyone connected. The group text, the project, the mood it just works better when you’re there. But here’s the thing: not all…
You’re mid-argument in the group chat, and someone sends a single 😏. No words. Just that one smug little smirk. Instantly, your heartbeat ticks up. You start typing a whole essay in your head. Because you know exactly what that…
It always starts with something stupid.Not fists, not shouting just a meme war. Someone says something reckless in a group chat. You open your camera roll, scroll past screenshots, and there it is: that one perfect meme template that says…
Sunday resets used to mean something simple.Wash your hair, change the bedsheets, maybe text back the friends you ghosted all week. But now, the internet has turned it into a ritual. There are color-coded planners, turmeric lattes, linen robes, and…
It starts the same way every weekend. You tell yourself you’ll just grab a few things, a bottle of oat milk, maybe some detergent and twenty minutes later, you’re pushing a red cart like it’s a spiritual exercise. The aisles…
You can tell who a person is by looking at their dorm room.Not in a creepy way just the small things. The way their blanket’s half-tucked. The photos taped unevenly to the wall. The mug that’s been washed a hundred…