The recent case of Luigi Mangione has not only thrown America for a complete loop, but it’s started a fire in my head. 

And in an instance, as if the ride couldn't get any smoother, the boat gracefully reaches the island’s shore. Except there is no boat. And there is no magical island. Only chronically online twenty-somethings, and Austin-fucking-Texas. And there is nothing graceful about that.

What the fuck is it about friendship breakups that

tear your heart up so badly? 

I feel like the sequence of events that led to my index’s demise deserve a story well written and laughably detailed. The message is an old tale, but one that will forever and ever reinvent itself in your life.

who are we?

Hi, again. Remember me?

dig deep. let go.

We, my friends, are only getting older with time, and with that comes a lot of hard decisions we've had to make along the way. Some of us are deciding to stay single. Some play the field. Or, hell, marry young.

Your habits, the way you talk, the people you surround yourself with… it all adds up in the equation of your life.

There is a silly thing I've noticed about growing up. I've learned to choose optimism, even when being pessimistic is easier.

2023 was a fucken whirlwind. Who expected that?