Shitcasters

Every morning I wake up and renegotiate the terms of my existence.
Coffee first.

I quiz myself, I doubt myself, I bargain with the void.
And for what? A fleeting sense of preparedness?
An exam? A future? Some vague, whispered promise of competence?
I hate that I have to study every day.

Berabaddie and Med student.

onchain… but barely

Retired couch potato who loves to crashout.
Believe me, it’s always something

Sorry about that babes sigh I get you to an extent

I like how you write your thoughts,  I wish I could