“We romanticize trauma so much that we have stopped trying to prevent it and started smiling at all the scars it leaves.”

Black don’t crack: It does bruise, though. It does rupture into a new sky.

I wish I was as good at love as I am at falling apart.

I am always becoming a new tragedy. Trading one torture for another. Forever versatile in this becoming.

Shame is what happens when you learn self love through people who are difficult to forgive.

Sometimes I open my mouth and my mother comes out.

Its okay if all you did this year was survive.

Self Love is just me loving you in reverse.

The last person I adored made me cry and then tenderly wiped the tears off my face. It was the only lesson that taught me; you can love someone and still do horrible, cruel things to them.

Healing can look a lot like violence.

Can we just pretend we are wanted?

It is terrifying to wonder whether that person you love is a walking red flag or a white flag of surrender dipped in your own blood.

I am tired of only being loved in theory.

Her body is a undiscovered country and she is afraid that someone will colonize it and expect her to thank them for the wreckage.

You are something I am trying to love; Not something I am trying to survive.

When will I realize the absence of hate is not love?

I tell the boy in my class that no means no and he laughs in my face – says no means change my mind.