SatoruGojoX l

My kind of drug

I'm not saying I'm the best at making questionable life choices, but let's just say if there was an Olympics for procrastination, impulsive shopping, and trusting 'gut feelings' that clearly have food poisoning , I'd at least get a silver medal. Gold if coffee is involved.

Men caused the male loneliness epidemic. Sad but true

The moon is never consistently radiant. Perhaps it masks its brilliance as a defense mechanism - to not invite envy and hostility from other planetary bodies.

Sometimes I wanna have a conversation but then I choose not to

same thing

you don't realize how lonely you are until it's the end of the day and you have a bunch of things to talk about, but no one to tell them to

People keep leaving.

And honestly? I’ve stopped being surprised. I don’t even get angry about it anymore. Just tired. Tired of watching connections fade, of trying to hold on to people who clearly don’t want to stay. It’s like no matter how good my intentions are, or how much I show up for others, they eventually just… drift away.

At some point, I stopped asking “why.” Stopped chasing explanations. Stopped waiting for closure. Because the truth is, most people won’t give you that. They’ll just go. Quietly. Like you were never anything at all.

So I’ve been learning how to let go. Not in some deep, spiritual, empowering way—just in a “this is life, and I don’t have the energy to keep hurting myself over it” kind of way. I let go because holding on started to hurt more than the loss itself.

Do I wish someone would stay? Of course. I'm human. I want to be chosen. I want to be fought for. But I’m not expecting it anymore. That expectation has disappointed me too many times.

Maybe

So today I thought, “Hey, let me try being totally honest with people. What could go wrong?”

Yeah. Everything. Everything could go wrong.

I told someone their playlist wasn’t really my vibe. Suddenly I’m “emotionally unavailable with poor taste.”
I admitted to my boss that I didn’t fully understand the meeting. Now I’m invited to five more meetings to “get clarity.”
Even told my cat he doesn’t pay rent—he looked me dead in the eyes and knocked a glass off the table. Respectfully.

So yeah. Honesty? Cool concept. Terrible in practice. I think I’ll go back to smiling politely and saying “hmm, interesting” while dying inside.

Hey people what's up?

Worked on my masterpiece so badly for days. Now just finished it
My fingers are hurting so much now

For real

Me:
"Wat you doin?"

Her:
" What's with the spelling and all. ..You don’t even speak or write properly."

Me:
"Ah........ a critique so vacuously pedantic it borders on performative scholasticism. Permit me to elucidate: my lexical economy, though antithetical to your prescriptive paradigms, is a conscious repudiation of syntactic elitism, not an index of intellectual insolvency...

Should your interpretive faculties be so hermetically sealed within the confines of antiquated grammatical orthodoxy that you conflate linguistic informality with cognitive deficiency, ,then I fear you’ve conflated decorum with depth...

Language, my dear interlocutor, is not a static relic but an evolving continuum,. a protean symphony of phonemes and semantics wielded by those unencumbered by pedantry. So I shall persist in articulating with calibrated chaos, unbothered by your fastidious fixation on orthographic purity...."

My message to some simps here
Bro.
Touch grass.
Reboot your self-worth.
Log out and look in the mirror until your dignity respawns.

Itna introvert hu..ki rishtedaar agar paise de to jhoota mna bhi nahi kr paata. chup chap rakh leta hu

Modern romance is just:
“wyd?”
“nm u?”
…dies quietly

( 1 )I walked again tonight.
By the river. You know the one — that bend where the trees lean like they're tired, like they've been waiting too long for someone who isn’t coming.

The moon was out. But it looked... off somehow. Dimmer. Like even she’s sick of watching me do this.
Same path. Same steps. Same ache.

I don’t know why I keep coming here.
Maybe I’m waiting for something. Or maybe I’m just stuck.

The river didn’t make a sound tonight. Just shimmered, all silver and still, like it was holding its breath. Or grieving. Maybe both.

And the breeze, god, it hit different. Cold, yeah, but it wasn’t just weather. It felt like a memory. Like your voice in winter. Faint. Gone before I could hold onto it.