Oreos&OxyeyeDaisies

HOW DO I KNOW ALL OF THIS? MUMMA PAPA NE BATAYA AUR FILMO NE DIKHAYA Love in the ‘90s was a different art, When writing a letter took days to start. Waiting days for a reply, hands trembling with hope, A romance built on patience, not an instant scroll or poke Love in the ‘90s was poetry in disguise, A world of simple gestures, unspoken ties. No “typing...” stress or double blue ticks, Just heartfelt confessions with innocent tricks. When eyes met across a crowded school hall, It felt like fate, no algorithms at all. Letters inked with care carried hearts in their flight, Each word a whisper, every comma a delight. You’d sit with a pen, pour your heart on a page, And hope it reached before you turned another age. No swiping right, just a nervous landline call, And praying their dad didn’t answer at all. Dates weren’t coffee shops or sleek, modern scenes, It was the park bench, samosas, and cheap jeans. A mixed tape was the pinnacle of affection, Crafted with patience, track-by-tra...

  Well, don’t you have a five-year plan? A five-year plan?  Listen, I’m just trying to keep my head above water for five days.  I mean,  do  politicians even have five-year plans anymore?  The only consistent plan I have is to open Netflix at night and contemplate why I have to pay for it every month when I barely make it past 10 PM without dozing off. "Kal ho naa ho…" 🎶 – that’s my philosophy on my five-year plan   So, what’s your problem with adulting, exactly? Oh, where do I even start? Adulting is like that Bollywood horror movie – you walk in thinking, “How bad can it be?” And then BOOM, life hits you harder than Gabbar’s laugh echoing through Ramgarh. No one told me my paycheck would feel more like a guest appearance than a starring role. I thought I was signing up for the “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai” kind of life, but this feels more like “Darr.” "Ajeeb daastan hai yeh... kahaan shuru kahaan khatam..." 🎶   Isn’t the struggle worth it if...

I thought I’d be flying, oh so free, Instead, I’m a manager of “Why me?” Morning alarms hit like a slap, I’m just one more snooze from a total nap collapse. Off to the kitchen, bold and brave, Until I remember the milk I never saved. Breakfast becomes a toast and jam fight, Who knew eggshells at dawn were such a sight? Grocery runs are planned with care, But somehow chips and cookies sneak in there. “Balance your diet!” they say on the net, But ramen and takeout are all I get. Laundry? It’s a game I’m meant to lose, Colors with whites? Sure, it’s old news. Shirts become tie-dye, socks vanish on cue, Matching pairs? Not this lifetime, dude. Ah, bills and budgets, the ultimate test, Should I save, or splurge on a “treat yourself” fest? Money slips through my fingers like sand, But did you see the deals? Oh man, they’re grand! Life is a circus, a hilarious ride, Adulting’s a rollercoaster — nowhere to hide. So, here’s to the chaos, let’s raise a glass high, Surviving this mess? That’s no ...