You’re done. You’ve deleted the text threads. Changed his name to “Do Not Call.” Unfollowed, muted, and blocked him into Social Media Purgatory. What else do you need? A break-up playlist. Not the Amy Winehouse-I’m-devastated-and-holed-up-in-my-room-with-a-bottle-of-wine playlist. You need a You-Got-Me-Fucked-Up-And-I’m-Out playlist. I’m talking busted windows, freak ’em dresses, and a …
If you could go back 10 years (August 19, 2006) and live your life from there with all of the knowledge that you have today, would you? — beautifus. (@BtSquared2) August 19, 2016 Twenty-two-year-old Robyn, In ten years, you’ll have no tolerance for pussy-footing. I’ll get straight to the point. …
I walk by this picture every morning. This morning—out of bed before my 5:50 AM alarm due to a three-hour bout of insomnia—I stop and stare at the photo of my grandmother and her three sisters. My grandmother passed in 2010, but I lost her to a massive stroke in …
Saturday, I got my third tattoo (or fourth if I count the set on my feet individually). I could be writerly and use the tattoo as a story prompt about growth and self-acceptance, but I’m not in the mood. I will, however, show off the new ink like it’s my …
Holy fucking shit. I’m turning 33 in two months. I’m always aware of time passed in relation to my birthday; especially now that I study astrology. At the end of June, I did a fourth quarter analysis of #TheMagicYear: what I’d learned and accomplished; where I’d changed; lessons and (dare …
