This blog is essentially a love letter to myself.
Please note that none of the content featured on this blog belongs to me unless explicitly stated.
I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.
If White Characters Were Described Like People of Colour in Literature @ Buzzfeed
Worth reading for #16 alone.
She was beautiful, elegant. Like a tall clear glass filled with raw pasta.
I didn’t even end up getting any last night. That condom was still in my bra when I went to bed. How embarrassing! And slutty!
Opinions are like orgasms… mine matters most and I really don’t care if you have one.
When I went through a really intense breakup — you know, I was engaged — and when I was with him or when I was on Disney, the thing that gave me the most anxiety was not knowing what to do with myself when Disney wasn’t there to carry me anymore or if I didn’t have him. And now I’m free of both of those things, and I’m fine. Like, I lay in bed at night by myself and I’m totally okay, and that’s so much stronger than the person three years ago, who would have thought they would have died if they didn’t have a boyfriend.