This is a working title at the moment.
By Lorenza Brascia Another Saturday morning waking up puffy-eyed and, possibly hungover. If I was hungover, this was a sign of improvement. It would mean that I had managed to suppress my deepened, darkened feelings, pulled together an outfit, and allowed myself to “let loose” for a night when deep down inside, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Lights off. Sleep. Repeat. Ice soon to be on the ground, a sunless sky; it was too easy to stay inside alone. Heartbreak… It’ll get ya.
Read Part One here, Read Part Two here. BEFORE IT ALL FELL APART It was the perfect Saturday morning. I woke up hungover and hungry for Dunkin Donuts (naturally). I called up Josh and I headed up to his apartment. I was a mess as usual, but being hungover just makes me more sassy and loving of all things in the world.
It’s no secret that I’m an open book. In fact, I’m easily the most open of books. I’m practically a travel brochure. I usually blame this on my astrology as a wandering and open Sagittarius. If Taylor Swift’s birthday was the day after yours, you’d be a little open too.
Read Part One here. 2 a.m. crying on the floor. At this point, I hadn’t spoken to Jayden Tucker in months. We tried connecting when I first got word I was going to be a PR intern in NYC but let’s just say he didn’t try quite hard enough.
Oh LAWD. What am I doing…why am I on the floor right now…why am I crying? I knew leading up to this that I had yet to reach my low point, but I didn’t think it would happen on a night when my best friend was visiting me in New York City. Poor Penny. Homegirl didn’t know I was about to be leavin’ her at a New York nightclub on her first visit to the city. So much SMH on my end. So much emotional instability.
by Ashley Haines And by easy, I mean really challenging and gut wrenching. But don’t fret, my friends, it is possible. In fact, I am a living testimonial. Disclaimer: Previous successes do not guarantee future outcomes. May take up to six months to see results. Get your heartbroken. Destroyed. It doesn’t matter how you do it, but there are plenty of ways to get the job done. And when it does, your world will shatter, and nothing will piss you off more than hearing people try to console you by telling you “we all go through it- it’s ok.” Sure, we do all experience heartbreak at one point or another—hell, some of us will be fortunate enough to experience multiple times—but not everyone feels solace in knowing how common the experience is. At the end of the day, it’s incredibly shitty, and trivializing it won’t change a thing. Cry. A lot. Don’t be ashamed, baby girl (or boy), let it alllll out. Scream if you have to. Be angry. Whatever you do, avoid letting your …
Two Interns in the City
We all have visions for ourselves. We all see who we are and who we want to be, and how to get there. Some of us fight for what it is we want and some of us are too scared to try. When you’re a fighter, and you’re living the Bold Bitch lifestyle to achieve whatever it is you’ve been working for, sometimes it’s easy to fall into the trap. The trap of feeling like you’ve made it. When really, you haven’t made shit, honey. When you have spent years feeling stuck and vying for inspiration, you receive hype off of your own successes. It’s when you’re on a winning streak that you begin to realize that you are worthy, you do have the talent, and you ARE doing something with your life. But be warned, dear; for feeling too high will only bring you down lower than when you started. For me, the trick to keeping yourself focused on what you want, is to feel a little bit like a hot mess. It sounds …
Here I am again. Back to Spinsterville. I’m sitting at my desk, writing and drinking mocha infused coffee (made with an INDIVIDUAL coffee maker). I’m wearing a cardigan because it’s a little chilly in here #grannyswag. I live in a student residence hall because it’s fully furnished, cheap(er), and close to the city (not to mention, it comes with a TV). Living in a double room all by myself, I get to look at an empty bed across from me and listen to all the other rooms become filled with laughter and friendship. The best part is, I get two closets #gayboyswag. It was definitely my choice to live in a double room by myself. I really do treasure my lonesome time. But it’s going to be a little difficult to make friends in this building since I don’t live with anyone. Did I mention my room is at the end of the hall in the corner? Yeah, people probably walk past it and think, “Oh that’s where the old spinster lady lives. She’s been …