Alone, when you are sitting at home listening to records, and “I’ll See You in My Dreams” comes on and you think of him, and you wonder what he is doing right now, and if when he hears this song, he also thinks of you.
The Mike Browns of the world do not come to protests, because the Mike Browns of the world are dead, or they’re in prison, or they’re so disheartened to the facts of their life in America that they don’t see the point in changing it.
You are tough and a post-modern feminist and you don’t need anyone. Ever.
I don’t like it when older people, especially Gen-Xers, complain about how whiny and entitled people my age are simply because we’re younger.
I didn’t realize up until that point that I had been singing “That Lucky Old Sun” and crying for the entire walk home from the train station.
“Would it bother you if I slept with him?” I ask. My boyfriend thinks about it for a while before saying no.
For using you as a tool, at least initially, to make my last boyfriend jealous.
In my first month of being sober, I took all of the money I had saved not going to bars and I put it towards my first and only tattoo. It’s on my thigh, in a place that even the skimpiest of shorts and skirts would cover so that only I and a select few would ever see it. It says “Jesus is my only drinking partner.”