The woman beside me on the flight kept staring at her phone. Every few minutes, she’d type something. Delete it. Then stare out the window. Finally, she whispered: “Do you think it’s too late to apologize?” I assumed she meant a boyfriend. So I said: “If you’re asking yourself that, probably not.” She smiled sadly. “It isn’t my boyfriend.” She showed me the message on her screen. It was addressed to her father. “Dad, I’m sorry I stopped calling.” Then she locked her phone. “My father died yesterday.” I didn’t know what to say. She continued: “I was supposed to see him next week.”

I didn’t smoke weed since 2020, until Saturday. I had discussed the possibility with Kimberly and she said that if it feels right, there’s nothing wrong. Context is that I smoked everyday since I was 16 years old and didn’t feel I was in conscious control anymore, fully addicted, at age 34.

Everyone in our office was 100 percent sure that the cleaner was stealing food from the staff refrigerator. Things started disappearing every week. Someone's lunch would be gone by afternoon, drinks would disappear, and leftovers wouldn't make it through the night. People started blaming the cleaner because she was usually the last person in the building. One morning, someone left a camera facing the refrigerator. By lunchtime, everyone had already decided they finally had proof.

My girlfriend broke up with me because I was “too broke” for her. She said she was tired of paying for dinners, Uber rides, and everything else. I didn’t argue. I just said, “Okay.” Two weeks later, she called me crying. She told me her landlord had given her 48 hours to pay $1,800 or move out. She said she had nobody else to call. I asked, “How much do you need?” “$1,800.” I transferred it. She started crying. Then she asked why I would help her after she broke up with me. I told her: “Because I loved you.” She thanked me and promised she’d pay me back. Three months passed. Nothing. Then I saw her Instagram. She was on vacation in Miami. New clothes. New phone. New boyfriend. And somehow, that hurt more than the breakup.

I was getting ready for my wedding when a woman I had never seen before walked into the venue. She looked at me and asked, “Are you marrying Daniel?” I smiled and said yes. She stared at me for a few seconds before saying: “Then you need to sit down.”

You've let guilt talk you back into the same walls that have seen you cry. Again. The notification reads, "How have you been?" And you melt. You think you were wrong to leave. Maybe absence taught them. Maybe this time is different. But do they really miss you? Or do they miss the concept of you?

Saw this screenshot on IG. kinda torn by this because I think it’s partially a valid response. I don’t necessarily think u gotta text somebody all day if ur not feeling it, but at the same time there’s definitely a way to communicate that without looking insensitive. What do yall think?

Love isn’t about finding someone who keeps the storms away. It’s finding someone who’ll hold your hand when the rain comes, pull you a little closer, and stay beside you until the sun comes back out. Because with the right person, even the storm feels a little less scary.

Last month, my girlfriend's team had a party because they had exceeded their KPI. I drove her to the cafe, she told me to go back first, and she would call me when it was done. But it was love at first sight, and she said "just go ahead", but her words were just empty words, while her actions showed that she was looking for a nearby cafe to sit and wait =))). Before we started drinking, she messaged me: "Have you gone home yet?" I told her I was already home, and she messaged me again: "Wait a bit, I'll pick you up, I'll ride my motorbike." So I had to go back and change my bike before going back to the cafe. It was the kind of situation where I said I was going home, but love didn't allow it.

A few minutes later, the supervisor returned. Supervisor: “We found your bag in the system.” Passenger: “Why was it still in the baggage area?” Supervisor: “It appears it was mistakenly routed back through the handling system.” Passenger: “And was it opened?” The supervisor checked the records. Supervisor: “There’s no record of a security inspection.” Passenger: “So who opened it?”