If a group of Expired Cottage Cheese Men want to tell me what I should do with my uterus (but think my emergency cesarean section or postpartum depression should disqualify me from insurance coverage), why can’t I yell at them for this cystic pimple that is so deep and painful I can’t even POP it??!?
To me, love means a whole mess of things. You’ve got the the traditional stuff: commitment, support, dedication, an understanding that Netflix and chill literally means we have to watch this documentary, seriously Adam, I’ve been waiting for it come out for months now, we can fool around when it’s over I promise.
13 Reasons Why is literally everywhere.
I wasn’t an athlete, wasn’t a theater kid. I wasn’t in leadership class. I wasn’t a stoner. I wasn’t popular, but I wasn’t unpopular either.
I am convinced there is something inside me
that does not want me to be happy
Because you are a hell of a lot stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.
like oh my god
I think there was garlic
in the last thing I ate
I swipe through Tinder unimpressed. No. No. No. No.
I want to build
a bookshelf for all your thoughts
Trusting someone, anyone, means uncertainty and uncertainty to an anxious mind is terrible.