Ari Eastman

I choose to forgive you because resentment does nothing positive for my life. I want something big and beautiful. I want happiness and hands that touch me tenderly, not roughly. I want a love worth speaking about.

I did not ask for sand all up in my ass crack. This is not the life I wanted.

Tell him he has a piece of you
and you’re not sure how it happened,
but you’re so glad it did.

When you’re in a manic episode, it’s delicious. And I’m not sure if that’s something I’m supposed to say. I should talk about the struggles of this disease. I should tell you it’s a dangerous cycle (it is) and to take medication (you should see a doctor). This is when I’m supposed to wish for a “normal” brain. This is when I tell you how hard it is.

Summer is when everything is maximized. Summer is when you’ve got the time to appreciate what’s around you. Remember that. There is no need to rush.

If you’re a poetry addict like I am, you’re always craving creative bursts of inspiration wherever you go.

I choose myself. I choose myself because I’m the only guaranteed one to do the job correctly. I choose myself for all the times someone made me merely an option, not a priority.

An entire sea, you’re still lovesick on one fish
who swims in the opposite direction.
You can’t hook-line-and-sink him
if his heart keeps looking for her
in every crowded room.

“How many girls I’ve been with. I round the number down…significantly.” — Sam, 24

“Ok, Catherine, you know that I am not a racist. My boyfriend in college was a quarter Cherokee, so…”

I’m really tired of what society decides to label weakness. I’m tired of natural emotions getting mislabeled as something else. I’m tired of seeing people feel like they can’t miss someone past a certain length of time, like they need to snap out of it already.

I don’t ever mean to pull away. It’s never malicious. It isn’t because I hate someone, or that I’ve decided my life is better without them. It’s because my f*cking brain says, “You’re done for a while. Go hibernate, ya weirdo.”

To be human is to be a little…messy. But to be a functional mess is pure art.

To all other fans out there, I dare you to listen to these songs and not instantly miss the gang and wish you were hanging with them at the Crab Shack. You know, fictional characters or not…

“Bros, specifically frat bros. Ugh. My vagina is closing shut just thinking about it. No thanks.” — Lizbeth, 20

“It’s pretty simple. He’s not that into you. I’ve never understood why girls try to analyze something so clear. If he liked you enough, he’d want to be with you. He wouldn’t put up stipulations.” — Tristan, 31

You’ve cried recently. You’re able to honor your emotions. Do you know how many people struggle with this? More than you’d think. Emotional releases are healthy. You cried, you let it out, and now you’re ready to keep going.

You reminded me to take chances. With myself, with other people. You reminded me that not everything has to go according to plan. You reminded me that it’s okay to accept what comes and love it every second its here.