happy · penis


When your blog post about using a necklace to get guys, gets you guys…



I just can’t get myself to wear a bra to a date. Maybe it’s after-hours exhibitionism, maybe it’s the scarring, skin-sucking strapless bras that pair with nice tops, maybe it’s the open vibe of my boobs hanging freely underneath my shirt: maybe I just want a boy who accepts me as I am.



He rubbed his fingertips across the small of my back. I wasn’t expecting it, goosebumps jolt up my spine. I tried to steal a moment alone with him, after the busy day with much company, I walked slowly, hanging to the back of the pack, as we left the park, the sun set, and he rubbed his fingertips across the small of my back.

confessions · happy · penis



So my boyfriend and I break up, and I start working out a lot to stay sane. And now I’m like, great, now I have abs, and there’s no one to look at them. Can I get a second opinion on if my perky spin butt is worth the chunky spin thighs?


I’m still in that self destructive phase where if someone offered me a chance to meet a stranger who would become the love of my life or a text from my ex stating that he wanted to see me, I’d choose the latter.


It’s starting to have been long enough since we broke up that if I died, it wouldn’t be immediately obvious to people to call you. I still can’t believe you don’t want to hang out anymore. I just want go home.


I didn’t have any warning. I still had soup in your freezer and eyeliner placed gently on the ground of your bathroom as I sprinted after you to brunch. I feel like I lost a home.