I automated my entire daily workload with Python scripts six months ago and now work maybe 90 minutes a day.

I feel like everyone around me has an instruction manual for life that I somehow missed receiving.

I eat raw pasta noodles right out of the box like crunchy crackers when I am too tired to cook.

When my college group chat stopped responding to my updates, I finally took the hint and muted it forever.

My husband thinks I hate his family’s annual beach trip. I actually love it because his cousin’s best friend stays at the house right next door.

I eat raw cookie dough despite the warnings because living dangerously is the only thrill I get on weekdays.

I’m a lead nurse at a private clinic. A very famous married local politician gets discreet wellness IVs here every Monday after weekend benders with his mistress.

My husband’s family treats me like a gold-digger. Little do they know, I’m the one holding the offshore account that keeps his father’s business afloat.

I listen to ambient thunderstorm sounds on high-end noise canceling headphones while working in open office spaces.

I really fucking hate my job, but its the best money I can make in my area without making a gamble on college.

I make excuses to walk past your desk just to smell the cologne you wear.

My childhood pets are all gone, and sometimes walking through an empty house makes the silence deafening.

I know your favorite snack from the vending machine because I watch which button you press every single afternoon.

I still keep your contact saved under a wilting flower emoji, and I look at it whenever I miss you.

My parents think I am happily married, but we have been sleeping in separate bedrooms for the last three years.