Mackenzie Mickavicz

People say to live with no regrets. But, I do. I regret leaving. I regret walking away from you. I regret it all. I’m angry, just so angry, at no one besides myself. And I don’t know what to do about it. 

This fairytale was fallacious. There was no truth to it. I fell in love with a man who was a figment of my imagination.

The dictionary defines happiness as “the state of being happy.” That’s a definition. A formal definition that fails to encompass the emotions, sweet sensations, and tell all tales that evoke sense, touch, and taste. 

I’d rather be lonely than ever be in a relationship with a person like you ever again. 

You feel worthless because he has made you feel this way. 

Pain leaves a permanent mark, a tattoo inside the brain that seems to never fade.

I’ve spent the last year believing that there was something wrong with me because I had hopes of a stable love with a complicated lover. I’ve spent the last year holding on. 

Never wait around for a fuckboy to grow up; never wait around for a fuckboy to get his priorities straight. Focus on yourself. 

It’s me. I know I am the last person you want to talk to. 

You are in control. Do not let what others think or say determine your future. 

No one can change who you are. You are in charge of your life. You do not need to be fixed.

Girls swear. Get the fuck over it.

Look forward. Move forward. Never look back.

The traditional answer is love. However, as society has transitioned from an era of romance to an age of hooking up, I feel obligated to say that the answer is sex.

It’s not a bad thing to see the good. However, it is toxic to only see the good.

Never, ever feel guilty for doing what is best for you. You can’t force yourself to stay if you are not happy. It’s self-sabotage. Self-destruction.

According to Urban Dictionary, the side chick is defined as, “the other woman; also known as the mistress, a female that is neither a male’s girlfriend or wife who has relations with the male while he is in another relationship.”…

We never imagine the pain of first love, maybe because it is just too damn painful to imagine.