Sometimes it seems like there’s a kind of competition to see who has the shittiest life. Does my adoption, bulimia and husband’s suicide beat your job loss, chronic fatigue syndrome and divorce? Who knows … who’s judging these things?
If I didn’t know better I would think my boyfriend wasn’t straight. He has such a great eye, he should be a stylist.
I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I left school. I had narrowed it down to a doctor, an actress or an interior designer.
‘Take shorthand typing,’ my mother said. ‘You never know when you might need it.’
As the last vestiges of summer sigh and turn indoors, my heart grows heavy and weary of remembering bad things.
Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble?
Look at the sky: that is for you.
