But sometimes, you just stub your toe. Sometimes you accidentally leave your curling iron plugged in the entire day while you’re at work, and (GASP!) nothing happens. And sometimes, your ex drunk texts you a picture of a cat dressed like Where’s Waldo.
Here’s a thought: not everything happens for a fucking reason. And I’m asking you to entertain this ideology while attempting to wade through the utter fuckery that is your 20s.
I think I made the decision today that I’m going to write a book?