Part 21 I spiralled. Hard. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering. Just a parking fine I forgot to pay and a letter stamped in red. I’d opened it at 6:42pm on a Wednesday with a fork still in my mouth. I hadn’t even finished dinner.
By Laura about a year ago in Fiction
Part 20 It started with socks. A single pile in the corner. One of those piles that’s not really dirty, just… lost momentum.
Part 19: “You Seem Better Now” “You seem better now,” my aunt said, in that tone people use when they’re trying to sound kind but still need you to know how hard you were to deal with.
Part 18 It started with a LinkedIn message titled, “Exciting Opportunity, Let’s Connect!” Which, in the ancient language of corporate nonsense, translates to:
Part 17: Can You Thrive and Still Be a Mess? Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about thriving: You don’t feel like you’re thriving.
Part 16 It arrived on a Wednesday. Mid-scroll. Mid-cringe. Mid-nothing. A message from someone I hadn’t spoken to in months.
Part 15: Suddenly, I’m the Inspiration I opened Instagram and found my face on a quote card. A blurry still from one of my rants, mouth half-open, eyes mid-spiral, overlaid with pink cursive that read:
Part 14 It was 3:07am. I was wearing one sock. Alex had a screwdriver in his mouth. And the IKEA instruction manual had been ceremonially folded into a tiny paper swan because, and I quote, “this page is disrespecting us.”
Part 13 I didn’t realise I’d been explaining myself my whole life, until I met someone who didn’t ask for an explanation. Alex didn’t flinch at my weird.
Part 12 Alex didn’t arrive with a speech. No “You’ve Got This” tote bag. No energy like he was about to TED Talk my life into submission.
Part 11 Going viral felt cute for, like… 48 hours. The digital equivalent of being offered a seat at the cool kids’ table, only to realise it’s made of reclaimed trauma and everyone’s eating vibes.
Part 10: I Accidentally Went Viral (Sorry?) I posted a video. A stupid, blurry little thing filmed horizontally with toast crumbs on my sleeve and under-eye circles that deserve their own postcode.
