ᴘɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴛɪᴍᴇ˙ ✩°˖🍮He's not your boyfriend. He's not your friend, either--you don't hang out.He's someone you share glances with through crowds. Someone you n

ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇʀᴅ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀꜱᴋᴇᴛʙᴀʟʟ ɢᴀᴍᴇ.˙ ✩°˖🫐You're not mean. You hang out with mean people, and you play along, but it doesn't make you mean--it makes yo

ᴡʜʏ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʏ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ̇ ✩°˖🍮This is the worst kind of attention.

Not loud, not obvious—just him, across the room, looking at you like he hasn’t

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇx-ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ.˙ ✩°˖🫐"Nightmare fuel." For a lot of people, it's monsters or ghosts, but for you, it's locking eyes with your ex-best friend, Jun, fro