My morning commute isn't just traffic.

It's the opening credits of my own indie film, complete with a custom soundtrack, dramatic lighting, and me staring pensively out the window, knowing that *this* is the montage where I find my true calling.

When my ex broke up with me, I didn't just cry.

I dramatically walked away mid-sentence, into the pouring rain, and only once I was half a block down the street did I remember my car was parked *right behind him* and I had to do a very undramatic U-turn.

I tried to achieve that effortless, 'I just threw this on' look this morning.

It took me 45 minutes, three outfit changes, and a minor emotional crisis over whether nude heels were *too* expected.

He said he was looking for a woman who 'doesn't take herself too seriously' in his dating app bio.

I made one joke about his NFT collection, and suddenly I'm 'toxic.'