Mentally checking out from work two weeks before your day off. PGP.

My friends are getting engaged and buying homes. I still sleep in an extra-long twin bed. PGP.

When I was “bending the truth” about my Excel skills in my interview, I didn’t realize how dependent my job was on excel. Quarterly reports? Fuck. PGP.

I’m not driving the struggle bus. I’m not even riding the struggle bus. I just got run the fuck over by the struggle bus. PGP.

That blissful couple of hours on payday when you have 4 digits in your checking account, before all the bills and rent come out. PGP.

Bought a desk. Couldn’t afford the chair. PGP.

Pretty sure the homeless man selling newspapers outside my building works harder than I do on a daily basis. PGP.

Caring more about crafting a stellar internet comment than an effective work email. PGP.

Not having the faintest idea how dry cleaning actually works. PGP.