Ashley

“This is worse than the dull ache of loneliness or the skin-crawl of anxiety. This is all my worst fears combined, drowning me, swallowing me whole. I'm unlovable. I'm unworthy. I'm too much and not enough at the same time. I'm a child. I'm stupid. I'm naive. I'm ugly. I'm too sensitive. Too emotional. Too angry. Too fucking angry.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“And yet I can't help myself. Because last time I broke, last time I cried and complained and made a fuss, I lost him. I will not let that happen again. So I shove my concerns down. And my disappointments. And my grievances. And everything that isn't my perky tits or my warm, wet vagina. Those are his. But everything else, everything that's unappealing to him, that's too needy and too emotional and too sensitive and too much, everything that might lead to another breakup, I keep to myself and I scream into a pillow later.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Because my body knows more than I do. My body's instincts are loud. And they're right. And they're appropriate and reasonable and they are not a nuisance. They are wise. They are giving me all the information I need.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age

“Men get so impressed by references,” Mom once told me. “It’s their love language. All you gotta do is know a couple lines from The Big Lebowski and you’re golden. I once said ‘The Dude abides’ to a guy and you’d have thought I blew him.”
― Jennette McCurdy, Half His Age