Hillary Humphreys

Feeling comfortable in my own skin would be a greater test of the strength than losing 10 pounds. But I fully intend to destroy my inner-negativity with aplomb and when I do I’m going to go out on the town wearing whatever I damn well please.

You have open wounds on that gorgeous heart of yours and it is wise to let them patch themselves up. But don’t be scared forever. Love is still out there.

The book was sized for the back pocket of a lanky boy’s skinny jeans and I read it from cover to cover that night.

It’s easy to make a good first impression in these situations. A little bit of cleavage, a self-deprecating anecdote, and just enough references to great literature to prove my braininess.

It’s a problem of mine, even when I’m balanced out by an SSRI, that I need someone else to make me feel whole. I hate sleeping alone. I hate not having someone to lean on at a bar, an automatic beer pong partner, someone to walk me home late at night.

You were 30 minutes late to our first date, which should have been a deal-breaker for me but when I first saw those giant brown eyes of yours, I knew I was doomed.