The time we spent together was filled with so many positive firsts for me, and I would hate for any of those to be tainted.
I get it: They want to know why I work a part-time job as a barista instead of a six-figure career that’s financially bulletproof.
We’ve become so weirdly obsessed with finding the best thing that we forget to actually enjoy what we have.
Since when did it become cool to not give a fuck? Do we really want to be a bunch of floating icebergs?
Question shit. Even when it comes from someone you respect. Even when it’s your favourite author from your favourite publication.
People have adopted the 33rd year in Christ’s life as a metaphor for personal growth and self-actualization. Here’s what I learned from my Jesus Year.