I spent all of Sunday morning meticulously meal-prepping, labeling containers, feeling like a domestic goddess of wellness.

By Tuesday evening, I was eating lukewarm cheese straight from the block, staring wistfully at those perfectly portioned quinoa bowls.

When I'm getting dressed in the morning, it's not just about picking an outfit.

It's a costume fitting, complete with an internal monologue about the day's emotional arc, and a final check to ensure my shoes will make the perfect dramatic click when I walk into the kitchen.

My main character energy is so intense, when I'm stuck on hold with customer service...

...I rehearse an Oscar-worthy monologue about corporate injustice, complete with dramatic pauses, just in case they decide to pick up mid-soliloquy.

I went on a date with a guy who said he was 'really into photography'

But his Instagram was just 12 pictures of himself, and one blurry sunset