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I’ve always envied people who spring out of bed and jog around the neighborhood with a broad smile on their face. Unfortunately, I am not that person.
A mash-up of emotions rips through my chest. Anger at Gene Strauss for what he tried to do to me. Disappointment in myself for how I wasn’t more prepared. Frustration with the fact that every day, I feel like I’m one wrong move away from being throttled by an impotent man and his insecurity.
Her smile is bright and innocent, but there’s a wisdom in her eyes, as though she’s seen things but keeps her own counsel.
You know how people say, “That woman’s got a body that won’t quit”? Well, mine does, and it quit right after I graduated from college. It’s not that I’m unattractive. It’s just that when you used to be better, everything about you feels worse.
The assault doesn’t end when the attack ends. It stays with you, hiding behind every door you open, every corner you turn, even haunting your dreams.
But the world tends to take our hopes and dreams and steadily beat them down until they become something else entirely.
The ultimate New Yorker pet peeve is the tourist who goes from full stride to full stop in the middle of foot traffic. We need special prisons for these people.
But part of being a young woman in an older man’s world is picking your battles, and this is one I won’t win. Sometimes you have to eat shit.
Teenagers could make breathing look exhausting.
He stamps out his cigarette, throws open the door of a sleepy diner, and holds it for me. He’s more of a gentleman than most of my Tinder dates.
I’ve found that if you want to enjoy a meal, it’s nice to have pants with little to no waistband. Tight elastic is your enemy.
But it’s not just the disrespect; it’s the inability to do something about it. If you disrespect me and I punch you in the face, that’s one thing. But if you disrespect me and I have to swallow it, that’s a soul crusher.
People think that we’re defined by the big moments in our lives: births, deaths, successes, and failures. But I think the little moments matter more because those are the moments that shape your self-perception and who you want to become.
She could start an argument in an empty room.
“You can hope for the good times, but it’s the bad times that make you.”
I swear this woman is the bane of my existence. Whenever I’m at my lowest, she’s there. It’s like she has an emotional tracking device on me, and whenever I’m at rock bottom, she gets an alert and shows up. Like a genie, but instead of rubbing the lamp, you just feel like shit, and she appears.
Fear is like a cancer—it starts with an actual moment but then multiplies and gains hold of you until it’s bending your experience of everything around you.
Nothing kills motivation like happiness.