Kate Ryan

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 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.

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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.

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.