As we grow older, we grow more critical of ourselves, our friends and family; we abandon those who we believe are not good influences on us instead of training our minds to recognize the strengths in people and accept their weaknesses just as we accept our own.
I hate you = I love you
Our generation has for the most part been exposed to a very particular angle of the female experience in media and television alike.
What they say: “I’m so awkward, lol.” // What they actually mean: “I’m hot and wear glasses from time to time.”
Hate you, don’t mean it.
“This was humiliating, unsexy, and, worst sin of all, boring. This wasn’t comfort. This was paralysis. This was distance passing for connection.”
You’ll thank her for it when you hear the horror stories of having an only child as a roommate.
As much as I would’ve loved to be a completely independent woman with no emotions at age 19, I wasn’t.
“Last seen today at 19:43”— how damning, because it is now twenty to midnight, and I know you’ve read my messages from the day before. The double-ticks gave you away, dude.