Holly Riordan

I feel like a shitty girlfriend every time I make an excuse about how I’m not really in the mood to go out tonight.

Pick something that makes you look forward to Mondays as much as the weekends.

He doesn’t care about who he hurts, as long as he ends up happy. As long as he gets his way. As long as he gets to have his fun with you.

I know the consequences. If I don’t go to class, I could fail the course. If I don’t brush my teeth, I could get a cavity. If I don’t text my friend back, I could lose them forever. But what does it matter? Right now, it doesn’t seem to matter at all.

She’s sick of always listening to her head over her heart. Of doing what will pay off in the long run instead of enjoying the moment. Of sticking to a predictable routine.

Your forever person will learn the brand of soap and shampoo you use, in case they ever have to pick it up from the store.

She’s trying her best to seem natural. To pretend like she’s fine without you, like her stomach doesn’t lurch every time she makes eye contact with you. Like her heart doesn’t jump into her throat the second she realizes you’re in the same room.

“The new Handmaid’s Tale series is really fucked up.”