Girls are taught a lot of stuff
growing up: like if a boy punches you he
likes you, and someday you will meet a
wonderful guy and get your very own happy
ending. every movie we see, every story
we're told implores us to wait for
it: the third act twist, the unexpected
declaration of love, the exception to the
rule. but sometimes we're so focused
on finding our happy ending we don't
learn how to read the signs. how to tell
the ones who want us from the ones who
don't, the ones who will stay and the
ones who will leave. and maybe a happy
ending doesn't include a guy, maybe
it's you, on your own, picking up the
pieces and starting over, freeing
yourself up for something better in the
future. maybe the happy ending is just
moving on. or maybe the happy ending is
this: knowing after all the unreturned
phone calls and broken-hearts, through
the blunders and misread signals, through
all the pain, you never gave
up.