Ari Eastman

I opened your urn for the first time ever. I even picked up the bag that contains you, took it out and placed it next to me. Looks like a mound of dust.

You have very little information to work on here, but trust your super sleuthing skills are about to shine bright like a diamond.

You search for little ways to insert them in whatever conversation you’ve having. Simply talking about them in the context of your life together, as it’s the way it has always been, is a high for you.

You’re sort of just coasting along. It’s not bad, but not amazing. Just kind of existing, like Blake Lively.

Someone has started placing sandbags on your eyeballs, and it is taking EVERYTHING in your power to fight and keep those suckers open.

This is not what I need today. I am already too busy drowning in your ghost. There is no room for other disasters.

“We fell asleep watching a marathon of Ancient Aliens and I woke up first and just looked at her in my arms and truly thought this will forever beat Vegas.”

You’re in an hour and a half long line at Disneyland.

“You weren’t my first choice tonight, but I guess that’s life, right?”

I ask em who is it? They say room service. Gimme one minute, she gettin’ a womb service.

My roommates were finally like, “We’re glad you’ve stopped playing ‘Landslide’ in the dark, but dude, you’re kinda scaring us.”

But if you are with someone because you feel like they need to be fixed, back away. It’s like picking up broken glass and then being shocked that you cut your fingers.

Before any outdoor adventures, you’re always the one who asks, “Did you put on sunscreen? What SPF are you wearing?”

Sometimes, a girl just wants to be told she’s sexy. You know, feel like an actual adult. A sexy adult. Nobody wants to be a sexy baby.

People expect you to be the life of the party. THE PRESSURE! IT’S TOO MUCH!

Extroverts feel best about weekends that include maximum socialization, and introverts prefer to keep it at an acceptable minimum.

When you are the one more invested, you listen closely for a ticking clock. You feel expiration date slapped across your forehead.

You worked really hard to shed that Freshman 15, and now your perception of food has kind of changed. But you still like to eat pizza…like a lot of pizza.