Or: watching the most ungraceful part of myself stumble through situations as if she’s blind-folded and drunk.
Q: What were you doing at midnight last night?
A: GETTING INTO BED LIKE THE DIRTY GIRL I AM.
Because I have writer’s block and surveys are fun!
I’m of the mindset that everything happens for a reason, with the caveat of: if you search hard enough for that reason. So, I’ve been digging relentlessly to try to find one, looking inside myself with the hope that I’ll figure out what this little life hiccup wants to tell me/what I can learn. I’m realizing, instead, that I might just have to succumb to the reality that these epiphanies rarely happen right away.
Women rethink the narrative they’re born into, laughing at Mean Girls rather than recreating their own version. They aim to bake a great, gooey pie, rather than merely perfecting one rigid, self-absorbed slice.