Kate Ryan

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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.

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

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

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."