My first hysterectomy as a resident was on a 16-year-old who had an illegal abortion. Her pelvis was nothing but pus. That’s the sort of thing we saw all the time. I admitted about two or three women like this every night. That’s what we’re headed towards now. We’re heading back to those days. Because of the restrictions lawmakers impose, women will seek abortions illegally, and we’re going to see a rise in septic abortions.
BREAKING: "Hand Lifts" now a thing women do in our culture so as to ensure the perfect engagement ring selfie.
Women, I know you already put on makeup, wax your pubic hair, bleach your asshole, put makeup on your labia, got reconstructive surgery to fit into your stilettos, got labia rejuvenation, and got a hymenoplasty to “restore” your virginity, but—listen; this is very important (VERY)—you are nothing without having a pristine hand for your engagement ring selfie. #NOTHING
via The New York Times: http://nyti.ms/1lRfxKq
He who fights monsters should see to it that in the process, he doesn’t become a monster.
You don’t owe the world any explanation for being who you are.
Let your work speak for you. If you’re a boss, don’t go around telling people your title. Be the damn boss.
When the world doesn’t see your grind, even while you’re evidently working your butt off, don’t get discouraged; work…
Never allow loneliness to drive you into the arms of someone you know you don’t belong with.
here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am there you are here you are there i am here i am…
I couldn’t touch you without ruining you,
so I didn’t touch you at all.
It’s when you’re on the brink of something
that you lose your balance.
You told me that once.
When I can’t bring myself to say what I need to,
my heart plays Russian Roulette with my throat.
I swear I fired that night, but, nothing.
Someday, I’ll show you the bullet I had for you,
after time has done the wash.
I’ll take it out of the jar of missed opportunities.
We’ll hold it up to the light.
You’ll roll it around your mouth like a fallen tooth.
You won’t forgive me exactly,
but we’ll laugh about how small it is.
We’ll wonder how such a little thing
could ever have meant so much