Chelsea Fagan

It’s not like I want to kidnap you and take you over to Bed, Bath and Beyond to get some monogrammed hand towels for our new beach house (though I kind of do).

I have seen the title “needy” be applied to so many different women for so many different reasons (including myself, at more than one point), that it has begun to seem the punishment given for the crime of wanting to be loved.

Lucky us! We all get to awkwardly move around this couple like a school of drunk fish avoiding a shark while they play out their melodramatic Romeo + Juliet film-student adaptation.

One only has to look at the kind of response women get when they say they don’t want to have children to understand the degree to which these life choices are not entirely choices anymore.

But as someone who has seen a young man eat an entire box of takeout curry in a crowded subway car on a 90-degree day, I can confirm that remaining within reasonable boundaries with these activities is an uphill battle.

Wouldn’t it have been awesome to have been born rich? Don’t you just watch Bravo reality TV and want to fall on a sword for coming from a background that did not provide you with fancy internships and three-story condos on the Upper East Side for just breathing?

It’s like an out-of-body experience, looking at myself from across the room and watching me shoot myself in the foot. It’s all so clear, so understandable, and so difficult to change. And everyone seems to have their own version of this.

Prepare and enjoy one of those adorable-looking cocktails served in mason jars that make up about 65 percent of Pinterest’s content.

Their tendency to make us feel excluded or constantly vying for an inexplicable kind of affection/approval we’re not even sure we want is terribly addictive.

You were there through different relationships the way a people weathers different administrations, learning intimately what it is they are looking for and the mistakes they are making — mistakes you know you have to let them make for themselves, just as they allow you yours.

If a woman is using a computer it must mean she’s typing like, a Sex and the City spec script or looking up nail designs on Etsy. She couldn’t possibly be gaming or running any other type of sophisticated program. Is her computer pink? Well, how will she know it’s “for girls?”

Will I forget who I am without you? What is the ultimate emotional toll of seeing yourself more as half of a whole than an entity to be cultivated and loved and improved on its own?

So many of us live with this resignation to the idea that work is just some dreadful, time-consuming activity that we have to slog through five days a week in order to be able to live the rest of the time. But why?

If your’e telling a story, have no concept of what you’re actually saying, and realize far too late that you’ve been talking for seven straight minutes about that time you thought you got rabies from that raccoon you tried to domesticate at summer camp.

See all of your friends from home one last time and remind yourself of how much you love them, how big a part of you they are, and how you should do better to keep in touch with them during the school year.

Let’s never allow ourselves to believe in the ludicrous idea that there’s only one kind of love, and that you either have it or you don’t.

There is no legitimate reason that an otherwise prosperous, fun, adventurous night needs to end with you texting your completely indifferent ex with something the lines of “I can’t stop thinking about you.” That is just something that no one needs in their life.

All My High School Friends Cook Meth Now