oh, no. the truth factory!

the only point of difference between rich people and non-rich people is money.

oh, and attitude.

it is not that difficult to be rich. you just have to 1. have the right connections, or 2. be born in the right family.

it is rumoured that for every 10 non-rich people, there exists a rich person. that's a birth rate lower than my annual salary hike.

[answers]

1. money.
2. no.
3. yeah, as mentioned in his book, he's in a lot of debt.
4. let's not get too personal, shall we?

these are the things you wear when you don't want to show your bare feet in public. left unwashed they smell like boiled shame. avoid those who skip socks — eww.

the sock fairy is real. she does not grant wishes. if you leave your socks unattended, she will kidnap them and give them a new life devoid of you or your smells.

here's a message from your mom: please wash your socks regularly.

[answers]

1. please read the paras above.
2. that's not a question.
3. the sock fairy operates on a strict quota system. two would be greedy, and she has ethics.
4. yes. unfortunately. you just can’t hear it over your own suffering.

for as long as i’ve been a child, cartoons have been there for me. i grew up watching heroes and superheroes and wanting to be one. my ambitions transitioned fluidly — from being a proud owner of a real omnitrix to a real ultimatrix, then a vibranium shield. iron man's suit even made me consider mechanical engineering (but i didn’t, because i love computers more). somewhere in between all that, i also wanted to be the flash.

but spiderman always felt like the most self-made of them all.

and the most accessible. like, all you really needed was a spider and some quality “me time” with it — and BAM, here comes spiderman.

turns out reality is less cinematic and more… medical.

[answers]

1. sadly, not me.
2. yes, but it wasn’t radioactive. i just got hives. it was painful, itchy, and deeply unheroic. now i hate spiders.
3. eff yeah!
4. aww, that’s cute. anyway, flattery is for losers, dummy.

i am a firm believer that bathing is one of humanity’s greatest

1. wastes of resources — including but not limited to water, time, mental stamina, and
2. crimes against soaps.

every winter, i have to embark on a spiritual journey called “do i actually need to bathe today?” the answer entirely depends on whether i feel clean enough to survive one more 24-hour cycle — which i mostly do.

bathing just feels… unnatural, unnecessary — heck, it doesn't even wash my sins away. (jesus had to die for that.) the soap can cleanse my body, sure, but who’s handling the internal damage, bro?

[answers]

1. if you don't fricking care about that cute little baby soap bar getting wasted, well, DO IT!
2. once a year should be nice.
3. perpendicular over hypotenuse.
4. we're still figuring that one out.

we all have our demons to fight. some of us are too scared to even look them in the eye.
gather enough courage to stare one down, and the demon just blinks back like, “bro, what did i do? i was literally birdwatching.”

demons aren’t nice. i mostly rely on distractions to avoid acknowledging them. it works until it doesn’t — and then i go right back to ignoring them again. emotional cardio, basically, but, like, the cursed version.

[answers]

1. you tucked it in one day, deep into the safe, soft warmth of your internal organs, and then forgot. it has lived rent-free ever since.
2. it means overthinking until the demon gets bored enough to leave on its own.
3. pretend you’re stronger. fake it until your demon updates its worldview accordingly. emotional cardio, remember?
4. customer service says no. inner demons come with a strict no-refund, no-return policy. if you abandon it forcibly, it will die unhappily and its family will grieve, and you do not want demon relatives showing up at your doorstep.

once upon a time, a teacher woke up and chose violence. that was the day group projects were invented. ever since, students have been gathering in random assortments of four, forming temporary civilizations built entirely on confusion, panic, and “who’s making the ppt??” energy.

the group forms. chaos ignites. someone sends “hi guys!” and is never heard from again. someone else says “what are we doing?” even though the instructions are literally pinned. you, meanwhile, begin to understand why ancient philosophers wandered into the woods and never came back. teamwork happens accidentally, mostly because one exhausted soul gives up and does everything.

[answers]

1. a teacher once decided he hated his students, and group projects were the perfect way to get back at them. historians support this claim.
2. they vanish. instantly. the moment the assignment is submitted, they dissolve like cursed spirits whose purpose has been fulfilled.
3. because there are only four kinds of group members:
   • the one who does everything (blessed be their soul)
   • the one who offers moral support (sends emojis and nothing else)
   • the one who takes the credit (“we really worked hard”)
   • the one who is a ghost (the group doesn't know they exist and vice-versa)
4. hell no!

paper is basically a dead tree reincarnated as your emotional support system. when you want to tell someone something but aren't sure they'll appreciate it — paper listens. silently. respectfully. without judging your handwriting, your life choices, or your sudden 2 a.m. existential rant.

paper sticks with you through thick and thin: through ink spills, mental breakdowns, crossed-out sentences, and entire pages you regret the second they exist.

people? inconsistent. unpredictable. sometimes annoying.

paper? dependable, quiet, and literally always there.

frick people, i'm committing myself to paper. it has seen the worst of me and still hasn’t left.

[answers]

1. some trees are still alive.
2. yes. we cut down the trees and went, “hey nature corpse, hold my feelings.”
3. paper absorbs emotions like a sponge with a phd in empathy.
4. absolutely. paper has never betrayed me, unlike some individuals i won't name.

i'll write this tomorrow.

a side side project is a mini project you build to facilitate smooth creation of the main side project, while losing track of what the main project even looked like.

a main project is the one which you never get to work on what with all the side side projects, main side projects, side main projects, and the main main project.

don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.

[answers]

1. um, i only know how to count till 10.
2. that’s oddly specific. also, not exactly — but yeah.
3. there is no such thing as "going too far" for a side project. everything lies within the confines of its boundaries.
4. absolutely not. but it will feel productive.

college was definitely a scam. i only realised it once i stepped out of it.

“perceived success” = “true happiness” was a scam too, and i fell for that one for a long time. (who hasn't?)

come to think of it, i’ve been scammed in some way or the other my entire life. the longer i stare at it, the more obvious it becomes: life itself might be the ultimate scam. the kind so big, no one believes it until you try explaining how exactly it orchestrates every little swindle that led you here. only this time, i've realised it before stepping out.

[answers]

1. shouldn't you know? anyway, anyone who's been alive for any amount of time has been scammed. even me!
2. nameless people. shameless people.
3. at this point, yeah. if there's one thing i've learnt: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
4. nope. if it's a scam, it's bad. simple.

closet monsters are extremely shy. greet one with a smiling “hi” just once, and you’ll never hear from them again. they don’t thrive on fear — they panic when acknowledged.

i was very scared of them as a kid. back then, fear had a place to live. it stayed in corners. it waited for night.

then i had to grow up and bear the consequences of the actions of my fellow human beings. i still don't understand how they manage to scare the living daylights out of me every single day, in broad daylight, without hiding at all. greet one with a smiling "hi," and you cannot predict what you have brought upon yourself.

10/10. would be a kid again.

the monster from my closet was a lot less scary.

[answers]

1. yes. but they never meant to hurt anyone.
2. because closets are quiet, dark, and mostly ignored — same as their personalities.
3. i tried not to give them a reason to. i learned early how not to provoke things bigger than me.
4. nothing. it stayed in the closet. i’m the one who left.

being on a high that can only be induced by prolonged company of blue screens, the brain may falsely report engagement as productivity.

the brain is a fucking liar. it lies so convincingly.

[answers]

1. the brain agrees you should.
2. i'm glad you asked. they are:
   • level 0: medium.
   • level 1: high.
   • level >9000: engagement-induced hallucination.
3. jesus would prolly agree.
4. did it feel intense?