Kate Ryan

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.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

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.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

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

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.