Yeah, shit sucks and you can’t change it. But what you can do is channel that energy into something good
It’s been one year of feeling like The Sopranos’ tracksuited failson — wrapped despondently in a blanket, or nodding off on heroin in front of a corn dog stand
Seconds after your boner deflates, the animalistic rush of sex dissipates and you're hit with a bout of shame-tinged self-reflection. Why, god?