Kate Ryan

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

There are some hipster things that hipsters want us to love, so we’ll join their cult. But we’re done falling for these things because we’re all unique individuals. Here are 10 things you need to avoid right now if you don’t want to be a hipster.

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.