Taylor Swift makes me sing the cringiest shit.

I am "tubing looks like it would hurt my neck" years old.

When your friend is active on messenger... but she died eight years ago.

It's time to mine my family tree for a pen name!

I made it through the eleventh anniversary of the worst day of my life without shedding a single tear.

I've officially lost 69 lbs.

Nice. :)

Attending the Christmas Eve service at my grandparents' Pentecostal church when I was thirteen remains the scariest night of my life.

A woman in the elevator this morning looked at me and said, "I don't know why, but you look like the 1950s, and I like it."

Sure, you have trauma. But have you ever had to ride to and from middle school for six months when your mother's autistic fixation is the song 'Nobody' by Keith Sweat?

My sister (29) is desperately trying to convince me to write what is essentially a Southern Gothic _Frozen_ fanfic.

Nothing gives me more secondhand embarrassment than how none of the white folks on Pop Culture Jeopardy ever know the clues about Black people.

This thought brought to you by my "Cringe Jams" playlist.

a woman singing into a shower head with the words " i got a pocket got a pocketful of sunshine " ALT: a woman singing into a shower head with the words " i got a pocket got a pocketful of sunshine "

I would posit that the Pocketful of Sunshine scene in Easy A is still one the funniest of all time.

I literally screamed in delight!!! I'm so mad that I spent my whole life being terrified of spiders, because these were everywhere when I was growing up!

I hit 50,000 words in my novel today and am (figuratively) sobbing right now. What a milestone.

I've lost 50 lbs and need to buy new clothes, but I'm having a hard time sizing down. Like, I don't trust myself to buy smaller? Or maybe I think the visible changes to my body are an illusion perceived by only me? Is this the body dysmorphia?

Damn, y'all remember when everybody was obsessed with Damien Rice? What a time to be alive.

I highly recommend writing a novel.

I'm home alone and have never had to work so hard to resist the urge to Murder on the Dancefloor.

My dad's been gone 6 years today, and I just learned something new about him. When he was sixteen, my grandmother sold the family property and gave him and my uncle $6k ($50k in today's money). My dad took his and flew to California to live with his aunt for a year.

Nobody ever talks about my dead baby, but I think about him all the time. I guess that's a mother's burden, isn't it?

Nothing will ever be as funny to me as the Tame Impaler line from WWDITS.

Not a day goes by where I don't think "I can't fucking wait to move to Minnesota."

Understanding my own place in my family's native american history as, arguably, the most white-passing of all my cousins has been a real identity crisis.

I scandalized the knitting sub a few weeks back when I mentioned that I remember how to do my left and right leaning increases by turning it into an r&b song in my head.

"The right way is to hit from the back. Ooh, girl, I like it like that." It's very dumb but it works.

I taught myself english style but I wish I had learned continental. People who knit like that are speed beasts. Too late for me now, I'm set in my ways.

That's the first thing I thought, too; scooping the guts out with the tip of your finger is just going to end in tears.

I've never related to anything more in my life.

Feeling too sickly to sleep, so I'm finalizing my novel's plot outline. Never thought I'd see a day that "Snow On The Beach" would become a backbone in a story.

I know I can't be the only one who hears a little thunder in the distance and bursts into Garth Brooks.