Laura Jane Williams

Seeing his name in my inbox took my breath away.

Single, imperfect women, here’s the truth: keep showing up as the star of your own life, and your leading man will come.

I said I’m doing this for so very many reasons, but really, it’s just one: This feels important.

“Own only what you can carry with you; Let your memory be your travel bag.”

It’s basically the book I wish I’d had when, as a heartbroken millennial, it felt like I couldn’t go on.

Decide how you want to feel.

Because I do care. I’m not chill. I don’t want to “just see”. I don’t want to “hang out”.

My name is Laura Jane Williams, and this is the beginning of how I got over one man by getting under, and on, and in front of many, many others.

Getting in shape taught me exactly what I am capable of once I believe I can.

Tears, like sweat, are saltwater, and you need hard work to get to where you’re going.

Sometimes, he really can do better than us. Sometimes, we really are just a bit of a bitch.

I wish you love, and light, and I know you are not a terrible human being – not really.

So what if I got it fixed? What if I had a little work done so that I could free my mind from worry about where my lips seemingly merge into the rest of my body by sorting out the one thing that bothers me – really, truly troubles me – about the way I look?

Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life, they tell us. Like it’s that easy.

I’m not sharing these stories for the select few asshats of the Internet who use the vocalised vulnerabilities of a female writer to get their rocks off.

I wonder if the most important lesson we could ever hope to learn is actually all about where we end.

Clear out the ghosts in your closet.

This time we’ve spent together – I want it forever.