Is being friends with your ex even possible? I mean, you’ve seen each other naked many, many times. You’ve opened up to each other about some weird stuff. And you once didn’t know how you could live without him. I’m still pretty much trying to figure out the real answer to that question, but I’d like to think that, yeah, sometimes you can be friends with your ex.

Truth: I love looking at celebrity fashion. When I’m flipping through the pages of a tabloid, scrolling through a gossip website or reading InStyle, the first thing I notice aren’t the glaringly provocative headlines, but the clothes that the stars themselves are wearing.

I’m short. Really short. I’m 23-years-old, and I’m only 5 feet tall. I might not be the shortest girl in the world, but let’s just say that I have met an uncomfortable amount of kindergarteners who are actually taller than me. Now, when you first meet me, you might feel compelled to tell me how short I am (i.e., “Wow, you’re really short.”). But really, there’s no need for that. I kind of already know — I do own a mirror.

A few days before my 23rd birthday, I met an amazing guy (let’s call him Matt). He was cute, had a great job, really liked me and overall just seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. He was perfect for me, in every way but one — he was 20 years old, making him a good three years younger than me.

Up until I was 19-years-old, I lived my life as a happy carnivore. I ate meat daily, just like most people do. I always preferred a plate of vegetables over a hot dog, but I never really imagined cutting it out of my life entirely. And then I read a book called Skinny Bitch, discovered what apparently really goes on in slaughter houses, and changed everything about my eating habits.

You know that guy you casually dated for a few months a few years ago? That guy you really, really, really liked but you didn’t know how he felt so things just never worked out for you two? And then after things ended, you were both really awkward around each other but you always wanted another chance with him? Imagine if he died, completely unexpectedly.

In my accumulated two years as an unpaid intern at a variety of different magazines and websites, I have learned a LOT about the art of interning. I’ve worked with super nice people, but have also had horribly scary bosses who think they’re better than you — and I have spent countless hours trying to impress and suck up to those same people. And, well, I kind of rocked those internships. I worked hard, stayed organized, and tried my hardest to stand out in the crowd.

Everyone remembers their first time at a bar. Whether they were 17 with a fake ID, or they actually waited until they turned 21, it’s relatively exciting experience. It’s like when you don’t have to sit at the children’s table for holiday dinners anymore — you finally get to play with the big kids.

I’m about to admit something that I’m not even a little bit proud of: I’ve been going through my boyfriend’s phone and reading his text messages. And before everyone gets all judgmental on my paranoid ass, I’m sure that more than half of you can admit to doing the same exact thing at least once, if not on a regular basis. The thing is, I’ve recently realized that completely disregarding my boyfriend’s trust and going through his phone like a crazy woman isn’t helping me feel any better about anything.

Although it may not feel like it (what up gloves in March), but summer is coming. And with summer comes tank tops, short shorts and bikinis. You know you want to start getting in shape for all those beach photos, but you also know you’re not ready to cut out all your favorite snacks. After all, what is life without ice cream or cheese?