i'm dying my hair today. i've had black hair for a looooooong time (ignoring the crisis in when i was semi red and then semi brunette - i was going through it ok), but i think i just need a complete change. i'm a mix of excited and slightly nervous. it's incredibly dumb but here i am. maybe it's the comfortability in the fact that through everything in the last few years, at least my hair has stayed (mainly) the same. maybe my frontal lobe has just started to develop, but i h

i got dumped about a month ago. it was less of a dumping since we were never really together, but it hurt just the same.  in my typical dramatic fashion, one can only assume how dealing with this loss of love was for me. (spoiler alert: i borderline drove paige and mike to insanity with my incessant text messages about how my heart had felt like it was ripped out of my chest one day and the next i felt like i was completely fine)  but i’ve found a lot of comfort recently in j

i've noticed that i haven't known what to write about anymore. which is odd because normally i find i write the most when i'm sad or unwell. i think it may be because normally i start with a question, which makes no sense because i never have an answer. i don't know what is interesting enough to disclose here. do i discuss my issues with relationships in my life, or how i feel like i have lost some friends recently and thats upsetting to me? is it interesting enough to talk a

i think people who hate carrie, secretly don't want to admit the similarities they see in themselves. i think people have an idea in their heads that confidence equivalates to never having insecurities. people have their own perceptions of others, which just leads to endless comparisons ; even unintentional. it's an ugly truth - an embarrassing one. nobody wants to admit whether or not they have the bad habits they do. but unfortunately for myself i have already said too much

i've been reflecting a lot recently on what type of love i want for myself in the future. truthfully i've been more so reflecting on...

who exactly are we? growing up i always put myself in a box. a metaphorical box sure, but a box nonetheless. who was isabela? to put it...