Blythe Roberson

though I adore men as individuals, I believe that as a group they’re systemically oppressing women.

Admittedly, I have never studied transcendental meditation, but I’ve researched enough celebrities who have vaguely described it in interviews that I feel like I get the general idea.

It seems to me that the meaning of life is to treat everyone with kindness and to be as joyful as possible. I mean, it’s either that or to buy a ton of yachts.

And, I think, after five thousand–plus years of men writing about their muses, women are owed a couple hundred years at least to talk openly about Oscar Isaac’s thicc legs.

There is definitely less societal pressure to get married now, since I no longer need a man to get a credit card and spend all my money on shoes that I saw Harry Styles wear

I discovered that I don’t have time to feel bad about myself when I’m so busy frantically texting friends about John Bolton and GETTING NO RESPONSES.

Maybe I’d use transcendental meditation techniques to recognize and dismiss any thoughts about whether it would make sense to put my Emmys next to my husband’s Pulitzer before I had even kissed this aspiring novelist yet. (Also, I would be the one winning a Pulitzer—for playwriting—as well as two Nobels, for literature and peace.)

I personally feel like a socially inept goblin for never having had a boyfriend. I feel like it screams out SHE IS BROKEN AND BAD. Which I know is not true. I am a goblin, sure, but only because I am small, mischievous, and greedy for gold and jewelry

Crushes are basically love energy within yourself that you use the idea of another person to access.

There are ways for your crush to fill you with net bad energy, like you’re coming down with a fever, and not the net good Pure Crush energy that feels like singing “Teenage Dirtbag” at karaoke and announcing to everyone that you have only ever heard the One Direction version of this song.