Riddled with boredom and imminent threats of insanity, I reached out to my followers on Instagram this past Sunday for some show recommendations (and general interaction, let’s be honest. I needed it.) Pouring my energies into a new show is my highest form of escapism, and when I noticed several responses encouraging me to watch the hit Netflix traumedy, Dead to Me, I started it on the same night.
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Glorified toxic romances and other story lines I’m absolutely done with.
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A couple of months ago I posted a poll on my Instagram story, prompting my followers to answer whether or not they think it’s acceptable to keep our old love letters. Here are some of their answers.
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It’s a gloomy Sunday morning today. You run in late to First Watch, mentioning something dramatically about the obnoxious Tennessee humidity and not being able to find parking. I smile, it’s our first time meeting in person.
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