Every Job I’ve Had Since 25 Has Just Been a Better Dressed Version of Panic
The offices got nicer, the snacks got healthier, but I still wake up with jaw tension and a browser full of job listings I won’t apply to.
From gossip to gut checks, this is where the loudest voices in our heads publish.
Columns. Hearsay. Manalogue. College chaos. High school headlines. If it sounds personal or true, it probably is.
The offices got nicer, the snacks got healthier, but I still wake up with jaw tension and a browser full of job listings I won’t apply to.
The lights are on, nobody’s home, and the Teams status is set to “Available (Emotionally Hollow).”
I’ve never seen him outside the squat rack, but he knows about my breakup, my sleep issues, and my macros. We’ve never made eye contact for more than three seconds.
All I know is I’m eating peanut butter with a spoon and calling it strategy.
He used a wrench and confidence. I used Yelp and panic. But hey, the drip’s gone — except the one in the mirror.
She opened a jar by herself, and now I’m spiraling. Should I just… join a militia?
She hadn’t prayed in six months, but during her chemistry exam she started whispering things like “I’ll change” and “Please, just this one time.”
They watched a show, talked about trauma, didn’t kiss, and now she’s unsure whether to text him or cite him in a paper on intimacy theory.
She came for classes but stayed for the “ASU Effect” transformation: 60% hair flipping, 40% filtered sunset selfies, 100% not citing sources in class.
He arrived with one suitcase and 36 feet of mood lighting. Two weeks in, he hasn’t spoken to his roommate, but the room looks incredible during Fortnite losses.
Jason says the gym is his therapy. And to be fair, he’s there six days a week, rain or shine,…
Apparently, expressing a thought now qualifies as heroism — as long as you smile afterward and include a disclaimer in parentheses.