A strong man can handle a strong woman. A weak man will say she has an attitude.
I would be proud. You’re not the kind of girl you keep a secret. You’re the kind of girl you tell the world about.
Once you grow facial hair, you’re not allowed to hit a woman.
—Suzanna talking to her son, Tyler, about not hitting me. (He’s 9 years old and already has peach fuzz!)
When my absence doesn’t alter your life, then my presence has no meaning in it.
If you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her,
maybe you should take a look at your hands.
Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us. And as hard as it is, we have to let them go. Life is hard enough without being around people who bring you down, and as much as you care, you can’t destroy yourself for the sake of someone else. You have to make your wellbeing a priority. Whether that means breaking up with someone you care about, loving a family member from a distance, letting go of a friend, or removing yourself from a situation that feels painful — you have every right to leave and create a safer space for yourself.
Beauty or brains?
Fuck that, it’s not a dichotomy. Let’s not act like mascara glues girls eyes so shut that they can’t read a word of Dickens or solve a trig problem. Let’s talk about how no boy has ever been asked if he’d rather get his Bachelor’s or get married; no boy has ever been told that he’s too handsome to run for office. So why cover up my tits so you can take me seriously?
Beauty or brains? I’ll take ‘em all, thanks.
That moment of pure joy when you find out that you don’t have an STD.
Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace. This is why I adore meaningful handwritten letters.