me, late 20s, discovering i love to cook, and have neck pain: holy shit i’m going to turn into a person who does yoga
me, buying paper napkins and eyebanging a herb garden: i’m having an identity crisis
me: *reaches automatically for coaster, catches sight of my reflection in my newly purchased wine glasses that were on sale*: i don’t know who you are anymore
“i’m not a fan of embellishments on throw pillows, they tend to snag” I say, and gasp in horror at what I’ve become
“Did you know they make odorized garbage bags now?” I say without flinching, the sclerae of my eyes as black and ashen as my soul
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