Kate Ryan

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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