Thought.is

Sometimes, he really can do better than us. Sometimes, we really are just a bit of a bitch.

I wish you love, and light, and I know you are not a terrible human being – not really.

So what if I got it fixed? What if I had a little work done so that I could free my mind from worry about where my lips seemingly merge into the rest of my body by sorting out the one thing that bothers me – really, truly troubles me – about the way I look?

I’m not sharing these stories for the select few asshats of the Internet who use the vocalised vulnerabilities of a female writer to get their rocks off.

I wonder if the most important lesson we could ever hope to learn is actually all about where we end.

Clear out the ghosts in your closet.

What I have to tell myself, over and over again, is that the inches of my waist are not directly proportional to my attractiveness to the opposite sex, my worthiness as a female, or ability to blow a man’s mind.

There are no wrong feelings.

Children are a part of who I am, and if I do not become a mother then I’ve done it wrong.

The battle isn’t won. There are still more men than women in the top spots of almost every profession.