I work to claim a uniquely fat femininity that thrives when my belly is full.
I’m too sensitive. I should just let it go.
I just can’t shake this feeling that he’s going to leave me and find someone who makes him happy without being insane.
I was a person diagnosed with a condition who simply but desperately needed access to the medication prescribed to me.
Looking at the future makes me worry about the increasing part that my family will have to play in my care and I hate that I’m causing them difficulty, but there isn’t another way.
NO ONE would choose to be an addict. There is no clear way for me to articulate the hell of active addiction. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I was at a point where I felt like I was lying face down on the ground with absolutely no desire to ever date or have sex again. I was exhausted.
Life insurance. WHY?
No one dares to mention that travel is essentially a consumable good under capitalism and, as such, simply isn’t available to many of us.
No matter how fast we moved, she moved faster.
While looking up articles on “direct” versus “indirect” communication the first entry defined indirect communication as something that “happens when a speaker’s true intentions are hidden.”
We experience anxiety very differently, but we can help each other in a way I have never experienced before.
My shame ran so deep that I couldn’t admit to myself that I had a disability, even when it impeded my studies and my social experience.
I feel like I’m in this in-between space where I have deep sympathies for sexual assault victims and am incredibly passionate about issues of rape culture.
I never really thought twice about it. I just said it… a lot.
Am I flogging a dead horse? Is it time to give up or do I honor my marriage vows and stand by him?