It is regular Monday morning and I am scrolling through my list of friends wondering if there’s anyone I can call up to meet
I once wrote a love letter to New York. I know, it’s cheating, but it came from a really honest place. In the letter
Today I saw her again. That girl. She was standing in line at a boutique in front of me arguing with the storeperson about
Hypothetical Scenario: It is January 1st. You’re hunched over the toilet still dressed in last night’s skirt and blouse. Little pieces of glitter are