Your dream lover is a hoax. Stop playing yourself and embrace the bad facial hair and unmade beds that sneak into your life.
You can log off. You can let your phone die and throw the charger out the window doing 90 down the highway and not post about each global crisis and still be a good, compassionate, reliable person.
Don’t pick your face.
It is completely arrogant to assume what empowers one person should empower another. Your pantsuit is no more empowering than her bikini. (Yes, even if she’s wearing it in the grocery store on a Monday afternoon. Yes, even if there are children around.)
Your hair looks better a little messy. Any time we can channel who we are in the sheets into the everyday is wet, hot magic.
If you don’t tell someone that you’re hurt, you can’t expect them to ask what’s wrong, let alone apologize. We’re not mind readers. We’re not even vibe readers. We are oblivious lumps of cosmic dust, just hoping our friends are hydrated and sleeping 8 hours.
If you aren’t at least kinda dying for it, you probably don’t need it.
Distraction doesn’t deserve its bad rap. If you can reorient your mind away from unpleasant thoughts, they’ll feel neglected and they’ll pout and they’ll stomp off into the darkness. Look at you, you’re happy again. And you have stress-baked lemon poppyseed muffins to show for it.
You are as beautiful as you look in that one candid photo that shocked you with how good it was.
Stop feigning modesty to appease people who will spend their entire lives searching for the confidence that exists in your pinky finger. Eventually you will believe in your smallness and alas, every company that profits off of our insecurity will have another loyal customer.
I am a mere *seven* subscribers away from 500. Share this piece with a friend and nudge them to join our incredibly dull (but cute) cult. Tell them we have booze and loose cigarettes.
Had to send this one to a friend. Great post. When you told me not to pick my face, my nails were right on top of a scab. Stay out of my bathroom!