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A satirical account of my experiences.

Photo by Daria Nepriakhina on Unsplash

Boy 1 asks if my writing is real. I ask him to define real and he asks if it really happened. I tell him whether or not it really happened doesn’t make it less real. He says that doesn’t answer his question.

Boy 2 asks if I will write a story about him. He seems hopeful, so I don’t tell him a starfish would make a more intriguing protagonist.

Boy 3 also asks if I will write a story about him, because if so, he needs to approve the concept first. He says he doesn’t want millions of people reading…


You’re a fixer, but some days you need to be fixed, too.

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You won’t see the ugly in Beautiful Broken Boy until you’re his.

In the beginning, he wears a mask. You don’t notice because he’s sweet and funny and the way he looks at you makes your heart sing like a fat canary. Sure, you saw signs, like the nature of his humor — either self-deprecation or disparagement toward others — and praise — how much more (insert compliment) you are than himself, and bewilderment as to why someone as amazing as you would choose him — but none of it seemed relevant. …


What’s the solution? Build a wall so high that no one can trespass, and never toss a rope to those interested in entry?

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A bit over a month ago, I met a guy at a party.

Technically it wasn’t a party, but about twenty of us crammed inside an apartment, belonging to my best friend’s friend, whom we’ll call E. Since Manhattan apartments are the size of a shoebox (well, those belonging to recent college graduates, at least) we all knew each other’s names and hometowns by the end of the night. E invited her senior year lab partner — a guy we’ll call B — and he and I hit it off.

B was charming. He passed me a new White Claw…


I’m not a small girl. I’m far from “big,” but my legs store the bulk of my body fat, thus rubbing together with each step. And it hurts

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Three days ago I went on a four-mile walk and I’m still recovering.

Not from the walk itself, as I didn’t trek through inclined trails nor pace faster a stroll. I didn’t intend for the walk to be a fitness endeavor. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have stopped at Starbucks for a salted caramel frappuccino, because what negates a calorie burn quicker than processed sugar and full-fat dairy?

My walk was pure, springtime leisure. Perfect conditions until mile three, when I wanted to rip my thighs off my body because the chafing became unbearable.

I’m not a small…


Sometimes we don’t attract those who mirror what we are, but those who are in need of what we are.

Credit: Cody Simpson’s Instagram

The other day, Cody Simpson called his relationship with Miley Cyrus “a phase.”

If you’re over the age of forty, there’s a chance you have zero idea who these people are. Okay, I take that back — you’d have to live under a rock not to know who Miley Cyrus is, and you’re probably familiar with her famous father, country singer Billy Ray Cyrus. On the other hand, the Australian musician, Cody Simpson, never amounted to the Bieber-level fame that he likely strived for. He did acquire a cult-like fanbase during his peak, though. …


Unpopular opinion: you shouldn’t need “thick skin” to be on the internet.

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I’ve seen ample discourse regarding internet etiquette.

Understandably, as the internet is a fairly new phenomenon and its influence intensifies yearly. I didn’t venture into the territory until my teen years — because the online world didn’t exist — but today’s children own more technology than I currently do. I went to a restaurant yesterday and studied the surrounding tables, as every child immersed themselves in an iPad. I don’t even think restaurants provide crayons like they used to. In my youth, the kids menu coloring sheets used to be my favorite part about dining out.

We’re far-removed from those…


It’s cozy to believe the world is fair and responsible, noting everyone’s misdemeanors.

Photo by Daniel Tong on Unsplash

Karma seems to be the buzzword these days.

You’ve heard the idea: what goes around, comes around. You get what you give. Good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people.

I used to be a staunch believer. The guy who manipulated me? Karma will get him, I’d mutter, while simultaneously assuming his behavior was my karma, for all the men I’ve potentially hurt. Unexpected car problems? Probably because of how I spoke to my mother the other day. …


Most people use the words interchangeably, but they’re not synonymous.

Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

Yesterday I learned the difference between jealousy and envy.

Most people use the words interchangeably, but they’re not synonymous. You could chalk their differences up to semantics. However, both words exist for a purpose, and imbue varying consequences.

Basically, jealousy is the fear of someone taking what you have, whereas envy refers to wanting what someone else has. You feel jealous when your partner smiles at people, a parent favors your sibling, or your best friend spends more time with other friends. On the other hand, you’ll envy someone more attractive, funny, successful, or happier than you. …


Transparency is not intimacy.

I used to be shy.

Like, painfully shy. Since I rarely initiated conversations, I appreciated when my peers did, and I’d let them center our dialogue. Which was more of a monologue, because when you give most people a spotlight — with no complaints or interruption — they’ll gladly take it. I had no problem with this, though. I didn’t care what people talked to me about, because in that moment, they chose to talk to me.

So, I learned to listen. I subsequently became great at it. My listening transcends beyond the story’s scope; I listen for the feelings…


Life with nails is a new rodeo.

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

The other day I got acrylic nails.

I’m no stranger to splurging on aesthetics, but nails had always evaded me. I viewed nails as a trivial aspect of one’s appearance; rarely do I wear basic polish. When I meet someone for the first time, I hone in on their face. Maybe their body. In an ideal world, neither of these would outweigh the focus on one’s personality, but we’re visual creatures.

The “procedures” I’ve underwent have always been for my entertainment. They don’t transpire through some desire for others to approve of me more, nor for me to approve of…

Melissa Kerman

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