Holly Riordan

That girl in his Instagram pictures could’ve been you. Should’ve been you. You’ll stare at her for as long as your damaged ego can take, trying to figure out why he thinks she’s more attractive than you.

I should be focused on my career, on my schooling, and on my friends, so I can reach the place I want in life. But I have trouble concentrating on my work, because you keep drifting in and out of my thoughts.

You’ll send me a happy birthday text and I won’t know whether to respond with a simple “thank you,” to talk about how much I miss you and want you back in my life, or to refuse to respond at all.

I need to do things right this time. That must be why time travel exists, why the hitchhiker showed up on my street and hopped into my car. To set things right.

If you kiss someone and see fireworks, tell them that it meant something to you.

You never thought you’d forget the ex that held your heart for so long, but now he’s barely a blip on your radar.

I cry over stupid shit.

When I’m alone in the shower, without social media to scroll through or friends to text, it gives me time to think — and time to think is dangerous.

My beauty comes out the most when I’m happy. I look the most beautiful when I’m doing something I love.

I want someone who will happily sing along to the songs we hear, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s heard it that day.

We torture ourselves by remembering the minuscule details about you, just so we can put it down on paper and create something worth reading.

The reason why women hate hearing that “nice guys finish last” is because nice guys are never the ones complaining. It’s always the assholes masquerading as nice guys.

You trust him to keep your secrets, and you trust him to give you good advice. He’s your rock. Without him, you don’t know how you’d make it through the day.

If you swapped lives with your best friend, you wouldn’t call them a failure. You’d congratulate them on all that they’ve achieved. So why can’t you do the same for yourself?

Everything was going good. Great, even. Felix’s fingers were clutching my hips, his lips gliding against my neck as tiny moans fluttered from my mouth. I was still throbbing from my second orgasm. This guy was a real keeper.

She doesn’t need you to play the role of the big strong man, because she can handle herself.

Right now, you can form your life into anything you want it to be. You’re in complete control.

Eight bucks for that teeny tiny shot you gulped down in two seconds? That can’t be right. Thank goodness you’re a lightweight.