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And if you didn’t pick up? If my missed call just lingered, blinking silently into whatever empty room you’d left your phone in, waiting for you to come back and pick it up, what then?

Recently, scientists made history by taking a 26-year-old writer and, through an experimental procedure, put his entire being through an Instagram filter. These interviews were conducted before and after the procedure.

Do you envy movie characters that have compressed their entire person into a single hard line, so simple and folded in upon themselves they practically disappear?

I’ve learned that the reason why going out to eat tastes so much more delicious than anything I’ve ever made in a kitchen is because they cover everything in butter. Why does my prize tuna steak gleam in the sunlight? Because Mrs. Butterworth stuck it between her butt cheeks before it was served to me.

When you’re a kid, talking back to your teacher could get you into detention, or an uncomfortable parent-teacher conference that might end with no dessert for, like, a month. When you’re an adult, talking back to your boss could make you homeless in a matter of weeks.

Wading through a marsh of mixed messages and friends at every stage of their lives can be, when in the moment, tedious and exhausting — but it is a time to figure out who we are and what we actually want against a backdrop of limitless options.

Apparently pulled over between a championship lacrosse match and the taping for a cooking show about Jungle Juice, Charming Bro displays the finest in athletic haircut, glassy-eyed stare, and smile that says “My dad’s lawyer wins cases like these for breakfast.”

I think I sensed that our relationship was in real trouble when we started saying horrible thing to each other via the medium of the cat.

Few people want to look at “21 pleasant photographs that will make you feel slightly better for 30 seconds.” Instead, we need “21 pictures that will restore your faith in humanity.” That’s silly.

Throughout my life, I’ve been friends with straight dudes who have treated me like a novelty. It’s clear that I’m there to be the gay friend who makes them feel better about themselves for being so open-minded. “See? I hang out with gay dudes because I think they’re cool. I’m very progressive!”

Because if you didn’t fall madly in love with your middle school/high school/college crush to this song or buy a black studded belt and immediately proclaim yourself as “emo” upon first listen, then you are either a dirty, filthy liar, a sociopath with no regard to human emotion, or too young/old for this song to be relevant. That’s it, hands down, no exceptions.

The most irritating argument I’ve come across is, “You haven’t even lived yet! Go out there and kiss a few frogs! Your twenties are for dating around and partying!” What’s most striking is the assumption that we all want what you want.

Now, summer romances are less monumental. We meet people online or in bars and talk about what we do and where we live. The romance doesn’t culminate in the kiss, but rather begins with it.

It feels like when we’re not hanging out with the same group of people, we’re complaining about how we need to get out, and start meeting new friends, and going places that can at least give us new decor to stare at while drinking.

Despite being doused in fire hazard-worthy doses of ckIN2U, the stench of bad breath hangs around TBM like sewer fog. Avoid on sight or, if you find yourself accidently seated next to this kind of mouth breather, relocate at the next stop — lest you too become infected.

To me, thinking is a practice in and of itself and hence is inherently practical. Thinking is a kind of doing such as, say, running. It’s an activity. Unless we say that running is physical masturbation as it’s not practical. After all, you’re not running to get anywhere such as the book store.

I liked you; I don’t know if you knew that, but I think you did. It was pretty obvious. In the afternoons when I’d lie in a hammock and read, and I’d catch you out of the corner of my eye at the far corner of the courtyard, returning from your day, it was hard for me to concentrate. That was my favorite part of the day.

God is dead. And you’re complaining you’re “neurotic to the bone?” The only way for you to transcend these difficulties it to overcome the hurdles between you and your goals. Force your will upon the world or be destroyed by it! There is no other option.

I see the way you look at bacon. If you want to start eating other food, that’s totally fine. I would respect your decision. I just want you to be honest with me.

WHY? Why do you feel compelled to have children now? I’m 25 so it’s less alarming and ridiculous when I see an acquaintance with a pregnant belly but even when I was 22, I knew people who were getting knocked up.

If she spells “conscious” as “conches” or “embarrass” as “embaress,” she’s blown it, and by it, I mean the opportunity to date a person who writes about huffing poop on the internet. Once I see three or so misspelled words, I read the rest of the profile in a Tommy Pickles voice.

I love crying. Sometimes, I feel like a good cry, and I just get all hopped up on Death Cab and heartwarming puppy rescue videos on YouTube and have a nice sob for a half hour or so.

Who, that you sat around with smoking weed, watching Conan and eating Oreo cookies, will become successful — famous even? Who will fade away never to be heard from again?

Too often, we view pain and suffering and mess like the early Victorians viewed pregnancy: an unpleasant yet necessary evil, meant to be slogged through but certainly not spoken of. Instead, consider this: what if this is the good stuff?

Tell strangers they are beautiful. Tell them you want to curl up beside them. Curl up beside them and imagine that you have morphed into a single sushi roll. Pretend that you are the seaweed and the other person is the rice. Cherish this feeling.

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