Kendra Syrdal

No one needs a stadium to hear about their problems.

You know how to really be there for someone.

If my debit card would get declined buying eggs benedict.

You should never worry about being too loud, too turned on, too needy, or about asking for something that society says you “shouldn’t.”

You didn’t save us from spinsterhood, you didn’t white knight us. You asked us out and we said yes. Moving right along.

The truth is, I owe you an apology. Our relationship has been really rocky over the years but out of the two of us I’ve definitely done more wrong than right by you.

I’ve heard a billion reasons for “why I’m like this.” I have intimacy issues, I’m afraid of liking people. My heart was broken and never really healed.

“You broke my heart and you never knew you had it in the first place.”

Don’t waste your time with boys who don’t text you back.

I just want to stare at nothing listening to the sound of my own lungs and sleep until I can stop pretending to want to go to brunch or even that I give a damn, because I don’t.

You are the person who has made “fat” the worst thing someone can be. Not cruel, uncouth, unintelligent, ignorant, impolite. Just fat. That, according to you, is the bottom of the barrel.

The bed is still all yours and no one is eating your food. It’s kind of, and by kind of I mean totally, great.

Try as I might to erase every bit of you from my life, you still linger. I make a point to shove you out, to pretend you aren’t reality, but then I open my eyes and you are still here.

I think about what would have happened if I hadn’t been jaded, hadn’t been scarred, hadn’t been in such a damaged place when you finally said, “I want you.”

Yes, rejection hurts. Rejection from someone you were already close with hurts even more. But you don’t get to go around blaming her for something that was so out of her control.

The first time you kissed me was the last time something so trivial meant so much.

Almost take off a chunk out of your finger when you try to use a knife.

I approached five of my writer friends and colleagues with ten of the comments we all get every day and presented them with the unique opportunity to say whatever they wanted in response: no real names, no consequences, no filters allowed. Hilarity ensued.