Forcing your big to go out because little gets what little wants. TSM.

I’ve been dancing on elevated surfaces since my first recital. 18 years later, I still love it. TSM.

Loving your big to pieces being obsessed with the little you don’t even have yet. TSM.

More excited about the theme than the party. TSM.

Having more documents on your laptop saved in your sorority folder than all of your class folders combined. TSM.

Feeling more nervous to submit your little list than you are to turn in a midterm paper. TSM.

Having to begin every story about the night before with “So apparently…” TSM.

Sometimes, I just want to punch drunk me in the face. TSM.