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It had nothing to do with ceremonies, but with how my brain worked, I made odd connections.
It be like that sometimes
One of the only consistent things in my life was the fact I was going to read all the books possible. I was already at two hundred and fifty for the year, and I had no doubt I’d be able to reach my goal of three hundred and sixty-five by New Year’s Eve. Maybe a real man hadn’t gotten me off in a while, but enough fictional men said the right things to make me blush.
“Life happens when we’re not looking in all directions. Sometimes it’s messy.”
As a millennial, I did what most of us did regarding trauma. I sent self-deprecating memes to my friends, worked longer hours so I wouldn’t have to face my emotions, and buried said trauma deep, deep down while reminiscing about how great ’90s music was.
I now understood why they called them crushes—because they crushed your soul repeatedly.
It took me a long time to realize that being alone was much better than being lonely with the wrong individuals.
It was almost four in the morning. I was wrong. I was dead wrong. I did, indeed, hate sharing a bed with a man who snored.
RE-FUCKING-LATABLE!!!!
half-love isn’t a thing. It’s either full or not there at all.
You make me believe in fairy tales.” If only he knew what his words did to my soul.
“That’s the problem with trauma. Those who inflict it aren’t the ones who have to do the unpacking to heal from it.”
She says the one meant for you will never call you too much. They’ll see your mess, and they will still call it beautiful.
At that moment, I understood why everything happened the way it did. I understood every bad date and every wrong man I encountered throughout the years. I understood the mishaps along my path.
If it weren’t for all the bad things that happened in my past, I doubted I would’ve truly appreciated the good I’d found.
