Mustard for the Burns

☕ Spilling new tea every week!
..You know that saying about how the universe rarely settles for just breaking your heart; it usually wants to shatter your entire reality? Yeah, that was my 2017..

I was seventeen, heavily reliant on my granny's herbal anxiety pills, and convinced I could mask my insecurities under oversized knitted sweaters and an impeccable taste in vintage French pop music. Then, I met him. Let's just call him Mr. Mustard. Golden-haired, blue-eyed, and with a voice that literally made my stomach drop. The chemistry between us? Undeniable. The reality? A complete, unmitigated disaster. See, Mr. Mustard was more than happy to hold my hand and kiss my cheek in the shadows, but in broad daylight? He let his toxic, territorial friends-specifically a girl we'll call Momo-treat me like absolute garbage. I was serving main character energy, and he was giving me spineless cowardice. So, I did what any dramatic, heartbroken seventeen-year-old would do. I got a revenge makeover, strapped on a pair of imposing Chelsea boots to make myself 6'2", and hijacked the school talent show. I stepped under a single spotlight to sing the most heartbreaking yet raw and forward song as a direct, public ultimatum to the boy who didn't have the balls to stand up and defend our love. Grab your chamomile tea (or a chai latte, if you're feeling melancholic) and take a seat. I'm about to spill the entire, messy, cinematic tragedy of my first love...