I want to jump through the TV and hug this poor sweet self-loathing girl who needs support so desperately. Sometimes, like a frat boy watching a football game, I fantasize that she just might be able to hear my screams. Just because someone doesn't reject you, it doesn't therefore mean they accept you!
I've become obsessed with the mental health train wreck that is this season of The Bachelorette. It's like Emotional Health gold--I'm officially in a goddamn psychological commentary candy store. Someone pinch me.
Her father's actions, sadly, carved a map inside of her, so every time she meets a new man she unconsciously figures out a way to follow the road she knows to a tee, making sure she lands exactly where she always has. Rejected.
My therapy-junkie self is officially and inappropriately excited following your blatant exhibit of douche-bag meets lack of mental stability, and though I've never looked forward to watching this idiotic show in the past, I must say, I'm downright giddy this time.