Ari Eastman

It’s not that I need a romantic partner. It’s not that I need another human to complete me. It’s that I’m so resistant to love.

At this point, the drinks are overflowing and so is the love. You start handing out compliments left and right. It’s like a smorgasbord of affection.

You have moments when you genuinely wonder where Gunther is these days.

When someone tells you that you deserve better, they are telling you to move on because they don’t care enough to be better. They will not put in the effort or energy they KNOW you deserve.

I cannot see you anymore and I’m looking through a telescope. You are calling me, but the phone keeps disconnecting.

They are a little too eager to put you on social media.

“A doctor once told me I feel too much. I said, so does God. that’s why you can see the grand canyon from the moon.”

Plunging necklines + no bras = small boobies paradise.

You don’t understand what it means when the love poet finally lowers the shield and realizes she’s in love.

A sarcastic BFF reminds you to find the humor in…everything. Even things you’d be totally terrified to joke about with other people.

Repeat after me: “I love having sex with you.”

“We were together. I forget the rest.”

It’s already pretty normal to share a bed.

For those entering (or already residing in) Crushtown, USA, here are some songs to compliment all those butterflies you’ve got swarming your body.

I didn’t realize my mother was battling her own villain.

You realize there is no “break” or month long vacation time you can really look forward to. Like, NO BREAK FROM LIFE? WHAT IS THIS???

“He used to love me, and now he’s just a stranger who happens to know all my secrets.”

But broken people have a way of continuing to break. Harder. Sharper. Shards of glass begin to spill out of your mouth. So you stop speaking.