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A satirical account of my experiences.

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.

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. …

Motherhood unnerved me because I didn’t think I could care about someone more than myself. Now, I want to know how that feels.

I used to be indifferent towards motherhood.

I saw kids in my future, but not because of some innate desire to have them. Mainly, I figured life without them would become stale. I’d develop FOMO through my friends’ holiday cards and photographs at their children’s graduations, wondering if I opted out of what could’ve been my greatest blessing. I’m sure I’ll love my future husband and we’ll travel to amazing places, but settling down might exacerbate our home’s emptiness. Our shih tzus and souvenirs might not occupy enough space in the house. …

Maybe a connection didn’t really exist outside of your fabrications.

The first time he messages, you answer because you’re curious. You’re not sure what he wants, but a part of you would like to know and it’s been a while since someone other than a telemarketer reached out to you.

You answer and he answers back. Every answer contains a question to progress the conversation. He’s polite and interesting. And cute, which you realize as you scroll through his social media, attempting to glean his identity through his photographs and posts. You don’t know him, but you think you want to. …

We’re simple creatures; we gravitate towards what we want and eschew what we don’t.

My best friend recently broke up with hey boyfriend.

Rightfully so, because he communicated through shouting and apologies were a foreign concept. Nonetheless, my friend is heartbroken. She claims he is, too. She wants to get back together. She believes he does, too. He hasn’t told her any of this. She just knows.

“He’s definitely as upset as I am,” she says, as we catch up over Mexican food. “It’s the reason he’s partying so much, and stuff. He’s trying to distract himself.” She crunches on a tortilla chip. “He wants to get back together.”

I sip my margarita for…

I can’t set word goals when I write, because I take my time with each line.

I only wrote on two days of last week and I didn’t catch up on the weekend.

I’m disappointed in myself. I try to write at least once a day — even if I don’t finish a full story, I like to know that I’m practicing the craft. I also like to be productive.

Relatively speaking, at least.

Productivity and I have a complex relationship. According to Merriam-Webster, the first definition of “productive” states, “having the quality or power of producing especially in abundance,” which slightly differs from the second, “effective in bringing about.” According to the second definition, I…

If hurting you didn’t hurt them, they didn’t value you as much as you believed.

I used to be the tornado in my life.

Chaos followed me wherever I went, but that’s because I brought the chaos. I called myself a “free-spirit” because I followed my impulses — in spite of how reckless. At best, the aftermath was embarrassing, and at worst disastrous, yet I viewed both as the repercussions in my life. My antics sometimes occurred at the expense of those close to me, but I didn’t take them into account. I was the sun in my orbit, and my loved ones the menial planets, revolving around my whims.

I was messy, but not…

When I first encountered Z’s page, her liberation both intrigued and baffled me. Her persona is a joke and she’s the punchline.

There’s a girl I follow on social media.

Actually, let me preface: I follow many girls on social media. The reasons vary. The makeup artists taught me how to line my lips like a Kardashian, the fit chicks motivate me to swap my beloved pizza for chicken breast, and the licensed psychologists convinced me — through their aesthetic infographics — that my ex-boyfriend is a narcissist.

Textbooks worth of knowledge underneath our thumbs, and we wonder why cell phones affix our hands like jewelry.

Typically, I prefer to follow individuals I either know in “real” life or who provide some…

The expression denotes a façade, because you’re playing.

Old-school dating advice needs to go.

Most of it’s archaic, misogynistic, and frankly, futile. Some ubiquities are so bad I’d list them under How Not To Win A Man. Honestly, I’m not a fan of the euphemism because — let’s be real — men are not the prize. Repeat after me: men are not the prize! You’re not wrong for wanting a partner, and the love that a healthy relationship entails, but first, reframe your objective. Instead of aiming to “win” the man, you’re searching for a man to win you.

You’ve probably heard the expression, “play hard to get.”…

When I was in high school, I wanted to be cool.

When I was in high school, I wanted to be cool.

By cool, I mean popular. I was neither, and in my eyes, the words were interchangeable.

In retrospect, there was nothing cool about the popular chicks. Nor the town I grew up in, where everyone applied to the same colleges and you were assumed poor if your parents didn’t buy you a car when you turned seventeen. The popular girls were especially uniform, donning Juicy Couture tracksuits, fangirling over the latest Justin Bieber album, and dissecting Jersey Shore episodes like political theory. …

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