You can’t love yourself unless you look like a bikini model — everyone who doesn’t conform to society’s arbitrary beauty standards is selling you complete BS.
Your anxiety may deceive you, convincing you that the longer you stall, the calmer you’ll feel as the terrifying moment you’ve been dreading arrives to haunt you.
My friends don’t see the sheer energy it takes to drag myself out of bed every morning.
God, please bring me back to You.
We may have separated on account of our ideologies, our actions, or our life trajectories, but no matter how we parted, I’ll never let hatred overcome my heart.
We courageously trust the timing of the universe, the belief that we were destined to touch each other’s lives, even if from afar.
Thank you for always seeing my heart.
I’m tired of carrying myself with grace and poise even when I’m seconds away from breaking.
Why can’t we unglue our eyes from the spectacular travesty that is The Bachelor? Why do the show’s ratings continue to skyrocket, even amid our persistent (but completely valid) gripes that the TV series is vapid and anti-feminist, so this will be the last time we tune in?
You may feel lost, uncertain, or afraid of what the future may hold as you lose the letters that bound you for years.