I land in Toronto for my brief layover and I have an urgent message of my girlfriend waiting on Facebook.  She is crying hysterically and saying to call her right away, which I do.

I didn’t win the lottery. This is what I do.

Or excuse me, “Concentrations.”

And if you were once the kind of girl who wore jeans in the baking heat of summer, you are, in some ways, always going to be that girl.

It’s a slow, painful death of a relationship, and the worst way to go.

Earlier today I came across this anonymous Thought Catalog post from a few weeks back…

27-year-old Elizabeth Raine is selling her virginity to the highest bidder. And it’s kind of awesome.

Supermarket cheese aisles depress you in a profound, almost existential way.

“When I began my job working in a laser clinic, I hadn’t had much experience working with these types of lasers….”

Not a girl, not yet a woman.

I don’t normally cry before coffee (okay, that’s a lie) but apparently that’s how we’re starting this week.

Unexpectedly wonderful places to get lost by yourself, no matter what part of the world you’re in.

For the richest person in town to not just be the kid who with an in ground swimming pool.