My Hundredth Post Was About Bread I Bought From The Supermarket. How Do I Come To Terms With That?

My hundredth post was about bread I bought from the supermarket. How do I come to terms with that?

A sketch of Sydney 💛

[Caption: a realistic digital sketch of Sydney from The Bear. Sydney is portrayed by Black actor Ayo Edibiri. She's wearing a white button shirt, a blue bandana over her long braids, and small bar earrings. The background is a gradient of pale yellow from below to gray-blue above.]

I hate telling people my birthday, and my friends pressured me into telling them only to forget and not even say happy birthday. I hate that my own father forgot my birthday, and my mother forced him to message me. I hate feeling like this. I hate craving attention. I hate feeling like I have to remind people to love me.

Writing a cover letter, or better yet, the menial task of writing the worst 3 paragraphs of your life in 3-4 hours complied from random templates you saw on Google images (20% of them are from Business Insider)

Chicago style citation except some guy named Mike goes up to you and tells you he got the information from his cousin, Joe. Chicago style citation except the exponent looking citation takes you to an image of a deep dish pizza where the citation is a little pepperoni. Chicago style citation except...

does anyone else think about the task of carrying yourself to your own suffering. walking to a test you know you’ll fail. driving fifteen hours to watch a family member die. jesus walking to golgotha carrying the cross. you know.