How to make perfect rice...how to change a diaper...how to make love to a woman...how to propose...how to live. Who needs parents to guide you when you have the google search engine?
"I'm sorry, but your music sounds like gibberish to me..."
"It's alright, it's suppose to sound that way to anyone over seven.""Oh...I'm not sure if that make me the genius or you..."
These summer days may be the hottest time of year, but I've never felt so cold.
She wondered if he would care if he knew how much she always objectified him.
"What would you do if all the people in the world disappeared?"
"I don't know. Probably play my clarinet."
Just so you know, I always care about you more than I let on.
Perhaps it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but the same didn't apply for hope.
"Does salad count as a midnight snack?"
"Does pluto count as a planet?"
"..."
"...go get the ice cream, I'll run and get the chocolate."
I love you because if I told you I was leaving you for your own good you would call me out on my bullshit.
She began to believe that her awareness of how pseudo intellectual she really was made her at least a bit intelligent.
"You know, my medicine is going to run out--and I'm not going to take it anymore."
"Fine." He took off his wedding ring, "Then this is going to end, because I can't take you anymore."
He had always assumed that the advice "Speak softly and carry a big stick" was suppose to be applied to getting layed.
Fine. I won't call you crazy. But you have to admit that there's something alarming when there's more of a chance that you're talking to yourself than talking on the phone.
As she tumbled through the rolling hills of grave-markers and and flowered tomb-stones, she watched from the corner of her eye the man talk to his closest friend about finally creating a college-fund for his daughter. She wondered if that sudden crack of thunder above them meant that the friend approved.
Standing in the bathroom, she stared down at the number on the scale. Her weight hadn't been this low in years, but her spirits weren't an ounce lighter.
Like a wounded gazelle the woman let herself be dragged into the crowd of gossip-queens and pregnant-teens, wincing as hands dragged themselves harshly through her hair, nails scratching her scalp.
He was born at 2 in the morning in the back of a cab underneath the Perseid meteor shower, and his momma named him Elvis because she said that nobody named Elvis ever led an uninteresting life.
He was the kind of kid who would give up his taste buds in exchange for a Klondike bar.
"That's what SHE said... to the paraplegic!" "Dude, I'm a paraplegic." "Seriously? I thought you were a Swede."
because not even ke$ha shines as much as you, and she pukes glitter.
Ke$ha can say what she wants, but the best dance parties are held over video chat, five thousand miles away from home, and completely sober.
there's nothing quite like the feeling you get, standing in front of the gaysian cult that is your friend group, and proclaiming that at long last, 'we are the new normal'.
As trying to explain english slang to the 4 non-native speakers grew frustrating, it turns out that duck-duck-goose really brought them all together in a mix of grass-stains and muddy knees.
She was drinking wine from a plastic cup and she had never felt so classy.
she woke up on a mattress is an unknown basement with fingers running through hair and the sound of humming buzzing through the air. she had never slept so well in her life, and never will again.
She didn't believe in love-in-real-life, because all the relationships that started with "Once upon a time..." ended with, "And that's how I caught him with another woman...oh, and one time a man."
If an idle mind was the devil's playground, then hers was Satan's fucking carnival, complete with a merry-go-round and everything else.
As she licks the remnants of melted, stolen chocolate from her finger-tips, and hopes the Icee stain on her shirt hadn't set, she secretly knew that if her sister ever came to her for help, she'd be there.
We all write for different reasons, but we all know that the best thing about these little stories is the chance to be somebody else for twenty-five words (or less).
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