It all started when my roommate was talking about love.
Like knock-you-off-your-feet, at-first-sight, let’s-get-married-and-grow-old-together love. Needless to say, I was having none of it.
“Is love even a thing?” I jokingly asked her. “But what do I know. I’m just a bitter 22-year-old.”
From that day on, “bitter 22-year-old” became my tagline. I used it as a hashtag when tweeting with my roommate (#bitter22yearold). It was my go-to phrase during long conversations and sarcastic quips.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how bitter I am in a lot of situations and about a lot of issues. As this churned around in my bitter brain, I’d been trying to decide whether to start a blog. I have more free time than I know what to do with for the first time in years. Most of it has been spent napping or Netflix bingeing with my two cat roommates, if I’m being honest.
And voila! Bitter 20-Something was born.
I could make this blog angst-ridden and more bitter than a bar of 90-percent dark chocolate, but if I wanted that, I’d just publish my journal entries from junior high. Instead, I’ll be writing in the hopes of being a little less bitter by the time I reach my thirties.
This blog will feature a little of everything: feminism, current events, fictional character analyses, sexuality, a book challenge, cats, exploring Chicago, anxiety about student loan repayments, etc. I’m bitter about way too many things to narrow down topics. Maybe it’ll be more refined by the end of 2015. I’m not sure. Stick with me long enough and we’ll see.
Yours in bitterness,