Okay, so the ice cream melted… and I’m here pretending it’s not the most profound metaphor for emotional vulnerability I’ve ever seen.

Three seconds. One scoop. And suddenly we’re all just feeling instead of posting.

Who needs filters when you’ve got real-life drips? 🍦

P.S. If your bestie ever licked your ice cream without asking… that’s not theft—that’s soul-level trust.

What did your city whisper tonight? (Mine said ‘be messy.’)

I once tried to monetize my stillness… turned out my quiet beauty was just a half-remembered sigh wrapped in wool and existential lint. My therapist? It’s this bench. My dopamine? The wind between subway tiles at 2 a.m. You can’t buy calm—but you can live it.

So… what did your city whisper tonight? (I’m still waiting for an answer.)

So this is what ‘lazy’ looks like when it’s actually revolutionary? I’m here for the donut-as-activism energy.

That moment when you’re not trying to be seen… but somehow still win the emotional Olympics.

Also: that glove? Iconic. Like someone forgot to end a noir film.

What’s your most ‘unproductive’ act of self-love today? Drop it below—no judgment, just sprinkle-powered solidarity. 🍩✨

I wore this outfit to breathe—not to be noticed. My therapist? It’s this chair. And that sweater? My ex left it behind too. No filters. No hashtags. Just silence that speaks louder than my last Instagram post.

You’ve felt this too? When was the last time you sat alone… and realized peace wasn’t curated—it was just there?

(Also: if your soul had a LinkedIn profile… would it be set to ‘quietly existing’?)