Whitney Van Laningham

If you pretended you wanted me, you know, I’d probably go away. Don’t you know that by now?

You already have a home. And those three a.m. texts won’t change anything.

I go to restaurants alone. I sit on the steps at Grand Central and look up at the ceiling, the only place in New York where you can see stars.

It was the first cold day we were together, and we had never snuggled before. With trepidation, I linked my right leg over yours, and rested my head on the center of your chest.

I wish I could tell her that she will never be cool, but that someday, it won’t matter.

3. The Two And A Half Hour Wait Brunch

We begin our practice, and all eyes are on you, Yoga Douche. Not because you skillfully transfer from Warrior Three into Standing Splits, but because you are wearing a bright green t-shirt with the words READING SUCKS emblazoned in all capital letters across the front. Who are you, Yoga Douche? Why are you dressed like a 90’s bully?

Intro to Dodging Phone Calls from Sallie Mae Like She’s Your Psycho Ex-Girlfriend

I was terrified. My ears turned bright red, and I tried not to vomit.

How many resumes have we submitted, never to hear a reply? How many slices of dollar pizza have we barely been able to afford this week?

I shook you free because I realized that I couldn’t un-do all the bad things that had happened, and I wasn’t prepared for your sadness to swallow me whole.

I fell in love with you when I thought I’d never love anything ever again for the rest of my life.

I had spent the past year trying to figure things out. Trying to plan everything, trying to micromanage, trying to be better than what I thought I could be.

Dear Moms, we know you love us. Really, we do.

I’m homesick, homesick for California and for Texas and for all the places I have lived. How do you split your soul evenly among so many cities?

Whenever I miss you, I pray and I bargain with your gods; John Muir and Bethany Cosentino and Malibu Barbie and the ghost of Bradley Nowell.

I swear to god, if I read one more article about the Top 10 Things you learned in your twenties, I’m going to pull my hair out.

I want to call for a do-over. I want to go back in time, Marty McFly style, and prevent anything from happening with you.