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“A woman isn’t defined by her boyfriends. She’s defined by her achievements. And her shoes.”
At least I’ve had smashing success in the shoe department. The rest of it, not so much.
perception and reality are vastly disparate. The truth is usually found somewhere in between.
My unicorn is no longer a unicorn. He’s a judgmental donkey.
Silence is not my friend. Silence forces you to examine your own mind. To face the thoughts you pushed aside during the day or the worries you hoped would go away, the secrets you tried to keep. I’m not a fan of my own thoughts. They tend to be a jumble of insecurity, mixed with self-doubt, a splash of inner critic, and a sprinkling of misplaced over-confidence. It’s a fucked-up place, my mind.
Loving yourself is hard enough. Silencing the inner critic borders on impossible.
If he has to fight himself to be with me, then chances are he’d never fight for me if it came down to it.
too many girls fail to remember one vital truth: we deserve someone who gives us one hundred percent. Half-assed effort isn’t effort. Half- assed love isn’t love. If a man isn’t all in, then we need to be all out.
