I had a one-night stand last night. I’m not gonna get into details, but there’s a huge chance the condom broke.

I have no money. I don’t know anyone that I can consult about this. I don’t want to get pregnant. I don’t know what to do.

Do what you gotta do.

Please tell me you’re going to let everyone know whether that person who was contemplating suicide ever wrote you back.

There are a lot of us out there hoping for the best.

Yes, she did write me back. Without going into too much detail, she was able to see a psychiatrist the following day. She’s on some new medication, and it seems like she’s okay for now.

Despite being in a pretty dark place at the moment, she’s actually got a great sense of humor, and she was emotionally moved by the overwhelming response.

So yeah, thanks for that, everyone.

I called a suicide hot line tonight. It was difficult because the man spoke English as a second language. I hung up after about five minutes because my roommate came home and I didn’t want her to hear the conversation. I’ve been on medication for 10 years and I’ve been hospitalized twice. I’ve experienced happiness, and it’s nice and all, but I’m so sick of always slipping back into depression (manic depression and psychosis). It’s a real piss off, and I feel… tired. And pathetic. And I can’t get the image of slitting my wrists out of my head.

No question, I guess. I just needed to let that out.

Tired and pathetic is a perfectly understandable way to feel, but none of the shit swirling through your head is worth a miserable and bloody death.

Of course you’ve experienced happiness, and you’ll experience it again, but that needn’t be your source of hope. Like you said, happiness is nice and all, but it’s not the point. The pursuit of happiness is what matters, and never giving up on that pursuit is what’s important.

Keep this in the forefront of your mind: those suicidal thoughts do not belong to you. They belong to your disease. They belong to a part of you that needs treatment immediately.

Your instinct to call a suicide hotline and reach out to me does belong to you. That’s the part of you that still very much wants to live, and that’s the part of you that also knows you need treatment immediately.

Please call the American Suicide Survival Line at 1-888-784-2433 or the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

If you get someone who can’t effectively communicate with you, ask to speak with someone else, but stay on the fucking phone, okay?

Write me back tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing.

Please express your current emotional state to me with actual words.

Frazzled bananas with a side of bamboozled sauce.

(See? Who needs emoticons when you can do that?)

I cheated on my boyfriend with my best friend, who is married.

As much as I hated to, I ended it with my boyfriend and I ended it with my best friend. Because what I did was fucked up.

I know I deserve it, but now I really have no one. I’m totally lost. I don’t know what to do.

Find yourself.

You hit the self destruct button on your life. Why? There’s a reason you fucked up this big. Figure it out.

It takes a lot of self loathing to disrespect the people you love like that. Where is it coming from? Identify the source of all that mess and deal with it.

It’s not good enough to just shrug your shoulders and acknowledge that you hate yourself. You have to put in some serious introspection here. The goal is to gain enough self-awareness so that you won’t feel the need, consciously or otherwise, to go nuclear on your interpersonal relationships again.

Oh, and while you’re at it, you also have to forgive yourself.

Good luck with that.

In what ways does Postmodernism and Multi-cultural/global feminism critique the feminisms of the 1970’s and 1980’s?

Gloria Steinem is one of the baddest bitches ever to walk the earth. Back in the days of hairy bush, she was the cartoon tiger on the cereal box of women’s liberation, and the very fact that I can use that metaphor without irony or disrespect is just a friendly reminder of how far the movement has come.

Feminism has a sense of humor now. It’s less radicalized and it has less to prove, not because it’s any less important (it never will be), but because women like Gloria made such amazing progress in previous decades.

I say this only to preface that any critique third-wave feminism has of its predecessors it also owes to its predecessors, so that shit should come laced with a heavy dose of respect.

As for critique, I’m not going to be a douche and pretend to speak for an entire post-feminist movement. This is a just a personal observation, and quite frankly, something that’s always bothered me.

One of Gloria’s most famous quotes is that, “a liberated woman is one who has sex before marriage and a job after.” Yeah, no. That shit never sat well with me. In Gloria’s version of liberation, a woman’s sexual freedom and upward mobility still orbit around the institution of marriage.

Fuck that. That flavor of liberation isn’t enough anymore. I can fuck on my own terms, work on my own terms, and I’ll be damned if my life pivots around a wedding. My marital status is not a binary state that determines anything about me other than whether I’ve chosen to keep a particular promise.

If marriage is your thing, that’s fine. A liberated woman can choose traditional gender roles or make up whatever shit that works for her. Still, it’s no yard stick in my world.

My roommate Chris is a legend. He moved in 6 months ago and is someone who I’m sure will be a friend for life.

Problem is, he has this annoying cockatiel. It’s an utterly terrible pet. It makes noises like a car alarm and let’s just say it’s a morning bird. It’s also unfriendly, even to Chris, biting the hand that feeds.

For some reason he loves this bird. Personally, I think it would be better for both of us if it was gone. We’ve talked about it but he’s too attached. I don’t get it- this thing has the pointlessness of a fish combined with the noise of a dog. An absolute mood killer.

I’ve thought long and hard but get the shakes every time my hand gets near the cage door. What should I do?

Your hand shakes, eh? You want the bird gone, but you don’t have what it takes to do what needs to be done?

Yeah, well. I know a guy. Ex-military, a real professional. He knows how to deal with your particular problem. He works fast, and he can keep a secret.

I think it’s time you brought in The Colonel.

So tomorrow I’m suppose to go and try meth with my friend for the first time. The problem is I’ve never really done any sort of drugs like this before (marijuana once). Obviously I’m out of my depth; I was just wondering if you could pass some judgement before I submit myself?

Please, don’t go. I’m not kidding.

Weed, blow, ecstasy, ketamine, whatever. You know I’m all for expanding your mind. I’m all for experimentation. Just not meth. That shit will steal your soul. Meth is not a healthy chemical. Trust me on this.

You are, indeed, out of your depth. Getting high on meth is sucking the devil’s dick. I promise, whatever immediate pleasure you may feel will not be worth the days of brutal sleepless hangover, and I assure you, the kind of people who do meth are the skankiest among us.

If you know enough to ask me this question, then you know I’m not fucking with you. That shit is filthy. Don’t go there.

I fucked my ex, it was hot as hell. He has a new girlfriend. His new girlfriend is his ex girlfriend’s best friend. All I want to do is tell her that he fucked me, and we have photos to prove it. Do I tell?

Wow, for someone so shallow and pathetic, you sure know how to pick a quality guy. Good luck being a cunt.