300(ish) Words on Michael Kors Leg Shine
I’m walking around with legs shining like chubby, prickly disco balls in the Texas summer sun.
Category: 300 Words on…
I’m walking around with legs shining like chubby, prickly disco balls in the Texas summer sun.
I like to think of a quietly dropped heaven (not purgatory!) where two episodes of a podcast idea, a well-intentioned weekly game night, or a writer’s group that met up four times all exist clumsily and excitedly together.
You’re 8 years old sifting through your closet of glitter-encrusted handbags, metallic threaded scarves, and Limited Too T-shirts printed with slogans like “Girls rule, boys drool” and “Life of the party.”
All the athleisure might be a symbol of something crumbling, yet I can't stop wearing my Nike Dry Tempo shorts for sex and sport.
It's like a conspiracy theorist YouTube channel with consequences that feel Grecian in their capacity for tragedy, but Netflix picked it up giving it (or at least you, the viewer) credence.
The mall-after-dark aesthetic drunkenly insists on its own allure and kicks open a trapdoor to an unfettered world...
I know that I am not a gamer and that I don’t play games. But I do play Purple Diver.
Frappuccinos are the first taste of freedom.
I’m a picker. I pick my chronically dry lips. I pick at my nails, then bite my nails a bit to get a better angle…to pick them off cleanly. I find gross reminders of myself in the places where I’m alone in my truest form or feeling mild-level stress: around... Read More