Who put onions in this post?
My friends and I do a lot of talking about boys. I’m not afraid to admit it, it’s true.
The newest overpriced fitness craze for the aesthetically elite that has swept our urban areas, emptied the pockets of wannabes such as myself, and inspired an entirely new level of athletic-wear snobbery, is the Bar Method.
None of this is new information. Everyone knows the importance of honesty, but we aren’t reminded of it often enough.
Reaching the regrettable phase of drunkenness in which the human body actively rejects all liquids which are not liquor, therefore ensuring that we will pass out about two sips into the liter of water we were trying to drink before passing out.
No one wants to look like the open wound who cannot take a hint, or has to bring the painful, awkward conversation about what has happened to the two of you in front of their face. Many people are happy just letting uncomfortable truths go unspoken until they decide to bury them indefinitely.
No one had ever seen the darkness approaching and instead of leaving, just opened an umbrella and got ready for the downpour.
When you don’t love someone, you just don’t. And there is no way to soften that, or make it sound better, or provide any kind of runner-up consolation prize that isn’t a complete slap in the face.
Here’s what love needs in order to survive: intimacy. (NOW DON’T USE BIG WORDS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.) You can’t love a wall, you can’t love an emotionally closed-off psycho, you can’t love someone who doesn’t respect you.