For now, we will cluster around the coffee table in our ridiculously themed costumes, play one more round Of Never Have I Ever, take one last swig of vodka and lemonade, and wish with all of our tipsy might that these nights will live forever.
If you hold the door open for everyone, the door will stay open for you.
In my opinion, the “wasted friend” title is semi-acceptable in college. We act understanding about it because “shit happens.” But after graduation? No way. If someone doesn’t have their alcohol consumption in-check after college, then I have no empathy for them.
I was desperately trying to fill the growing void within me with alcohol and attention from men; but no matter how much of it I got – it was never enough.
Every night I sit alone. As the rest of the world settles down at the table with family and friends, my need for food or comfort was relinquished long ago.
1:36 PM: You instantly regret asking questions about last night because now you’re even more embarrassed and hate yourself even more.
An addiction memoir for girls who suspected those that talk about how their lives have changed because of yoga or green juice or jesus to be completely full of shit.
We laid in bed, holding one another and deeply breathing in each other’s scents. The only thing kissing the silence was the soft inhale and exhale of our steady gasps. Then – he spoke.
I don’t need shots sloshing around in my stomach for me to find reasons to laugh with my friends until tears leak from our eyes. For us to make wild jokes that only we understand.