You Feel Like Telling Him

There Is One Thing You Know For Sure, One Fact That Never Fails To Comfort You: The Worst Day Of Your Life Wasn't In There, In That Mess. And It Will Do You Good To Remember The Best Day Of Your Life Wasn't In There, Either. But Another Person Brought You Closer To Those Borders Than You Had Been, And Maybe That's Not Such A Bad Thing.

Every Time I Open The Drawer, It's A Trip Down Memory Lane, Which, If You Don't Turn Off At The Right Exit, Merges Straight Into The Masochistic Nostalgia Highway.

Because I Am A Horrible Flincher, Contact Lenses Are Not An Option. I'm Always Envious Of Contact-wearers. There Are Endless Reasons To Take Off One's Glasses During The Day And, As I Have Grown Older, What I Don't See Has Become Increasingly Pronounced.

Ladies. Large Masses Of Girls Are Often Prone To This Salutation. I Hate Being Mollified With This Unsolicited "ladies" Business. I Know We're All Women. I Am Conscious Of My Breasts. Do I Have To Be Conscious Of Yours As Well? Do Men Do This? Do They Go, "men: Meet For Ribs In The Shed After The Game. Keg Beer, Raw Eggs, And Death Metal Only." I Would Imagine Not.

I Hope To One Day Co-sign A Lease With Another Person But, Well, It Doesn't Plague Me That I Have Yet To Do So. Put It This Way: I've Never Had To Violently Tug At My Own Pillow At 2 A.m. To Get Myself To Stop Snoring.