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“What in the cottagecore fuck was that bitch wearing?”
I slept through a Friday meeting I usually attend, but I cannot find one fuck to give. All out of fucks.
Nothing I did was ever good enough for her, though.
I wonder how long I let that guide my own feelings of good enough.
I want to understand what makes her tick, what makes her so different—I want to understand why I feel differently about her.
“So you’re keeping Ward from talking to his mom?” she asks. Calm down, Regina fucking George.
“You deserve all the sunshine and perfect fall days,”
It feels good to make a promise to try, to acknowledge that there’s no such thing as easy when it comes to life.
It’s almost like simple words of love and kindness are the most powerful magic of all.
