If a group of Expired Cottage Cheese Men want to tell me what I should do with my uterus (but think my emergency cesarean section or postpartum depression should disqualify me from insurance coverage), why can’t I yell at them for this cystic pimple that is so deep and painful I can’t even POP it??!?
If you haven’t realized it yet, one day you will wake up and see that you are living, breathing proof that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Trusting someone, anyone, means uncertainty and uncertainty to an anxious mind is terrible.
Notes on life Liana Finck’s cartoons appear in The New Yorker and on Catapult. She posts her drawings on Instagram. The…
We’d wander around the aisles at 10pm and almost always forget to buy the things he said he needed to get in the first place.
Move on from a life that has bruised your ego. From a life that has done nothing but pour tragedy and disaster into your heart. Move on from the past that has you reeling every time you look back on it. Move on from the ugly ghosts that haunt you to this day.
You need the kind of people who you can talk about the complicated parts of your life with. The kind of people who won’t judge you, the kind of people who will listen to you and hold you when you’re crying because you can’t make sense of what’s going on.
From rovers to telescopes the size of villages, we’re going to need some serious technology if we ever want to find life beyond Earth
I worry that I’ll never love anyone as much as the first person I ever fell in love with.
And 4 am, on the 24th, I’ve turned 25. With Cole Sprouse sticking his tongue down my throat.
When out with friends you order beer over wine, whiskey over vodka, chicken wings over a salad.
I’m learning to let love find me. I’m learning to stop decoding messages and mixed signals and signs and wait for the clear message, the message that is so obvious and easy to understand, the message that doesn’t make you question or second guess anything and the message that you’re truly waiting for.
In my other life, I don’t believe in them. Image: Steven Guzzardi I turn thirty first thing in January: the last decade…
Drop everything to travel the world.
I’m never going to be a Daria, as much as the internet tries to convince me I should be. I’ll always be a Kimmy Schmidt. Loud, passionate, and maybe a bit much.
Instead of trying to have someone fix you, rip open your chest and show the world that you’re just like everyone else. You suffer, you cry, you feel afraid, you get angry, you put yourself down and you want to run and hide. You are a beautiful hopeless mess, just like the rest of us.
It’s been almost six months since my last serious relationship has ended. While this might not be so important to many, it is to me.
How we react to hard times shows a lot about who we are as a person. We can sit and sulk over what happened, we can cry, look for sympathy, act like things are never going to improve or we can get up and do something about it.
Often, the best way to help someone is not to make them feel “better,” but to help them feel “lighter.”
I get drunk and spend a few hours dancing with my friends ON THE FUCKING STAGE, when a nerdy looking guy approaches and decides he can have an opinion on my fly ass outfit. I brush him off, and probably said something clever like “you shouldda worn jeans” …