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Your body is a combo of bruised, bleeding, and semi-dying as you scroll through yesterday’s Snapstories trying to piece together your night.

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“Midnight comes, and she drunkenly pukes on my shoulder, and it runs down my shirt. I then tried not to get sick on her. I failed.”

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The boy will be wearing a collared shirt and hug you when he walks into the room. You do not want to let go, but there are too many people.

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It was Halloween so everyone was in costume. This one dude was dressed as jack sparrow. Cops come in and the guy, who was super hammered at this point stands right next to an open window and says “you’ll always remember this as the day you almost caught jack sparrow,” proceeds to jump out the second story window and break his leg.

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Nine years ago, I put myself in a bad situation. I was assaulted because of x, y, and z – and as long as I don’t do those things, it probably won’t happen again. The attack itself made me feel helpless, but seeing it this way gives me control.

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I wish she could understand the way my stomach turned as he climbed out of my bedroom window.

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I was misunderstood. Misunderstood people have demons and vices.

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I pulled up my dress and we hooked up in full view of the street. Thank god the Upper West Side is almost exclusively populated by rich old people and families—no one was out walking around. Walking me back to the hotel, he kept repeating, “I can’t believe I hooked up with a real Manhattan girl.”