“There’s two categories of things that I keep, the really good and the really bad.”
Your highs and lows are so mystifying, you can’t decide anymore if you’re crying because you’re so happy or because you’re so sad.
Peak excitement was watching your sibling say something rude or snappy to your parents because you knew they were about to get punished.
Like under that gross attitude and propensity to belittle everyone, there’s actually, like, this really cool guy who just, you know, has feelings and stuff.
Tell me that what I am feeling is not real. That this will pass, for there is no foreseeable future for the both of us. I am leaving soon and no matter how hard we have been trying to keep me here, fate is just not interested.
It’s official: you’ve become one of those infectiously happy people.
We want a deep, lasting, passionate, devastating love. We want a Carrie and Mr. Big love.
Really, I would never have it any other way.
If they ignore us, why do we find them so much more attractive?
I step out of my clothes and stand before him in a pair of satin panties and a matching bra in screaming red.