Sometimes, you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling.
NIKITA GILLPerfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours.
More Nikita Gill Quotes
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The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.
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No one told me love could be a God of both living and dying. That girls who love girls do not just drown, they also float.
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A story is no small thing.
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Every woman is both match and spark, a light for each other from the dark.
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There is something moon-soaked and dawn-flavoured about her.
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She is alone, and oh how brilliantly she shines.
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To heal you must forgive your heart, your skin, your body, all of their mistakes.
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I don’t know how to love people well yet. But I know I can love you the way you deserve, if you let me.
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I had hoped one day to find someone who loves my monsters, the wolves that I feed, the demons I sing to sleep, the tiger that is my caged heart, the parts of me I do not talk about. I prayed and wished and yearned until I realized that I had already found her within me.
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To my children, I will say, ‘Fill your skin with kindness and find solace in your solitude. It takes bravery to be kind. But to be brave you will need to know how to stand for something even if you are completely alone.’
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Sometimes all it takes to help someone survive anything brutal are those six words: ‘None of it was your fault.
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Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours.
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You must understand: they fear you. There is nothing scarier in their minds than a girl who knows the power of her flames.
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There is a knowing in her, she hears them say, that makes her untamable. She has known since she was a child that she is observant in a way that makes them uncomfortable.
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Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.
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Some people will always taste like fire and leave the ones that love them tasting like ash.
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What I have spent in mourning is the price I have paid for my healing.
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If a woman does not fit the shape of what you think a woman should, if a woman is not obedient, does not see things the way you do, if a woman is too independent to need anything more than herself, does she automatically become a threat filled with such terror to you?
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Even with the antidepressants, the grief seeped through the dangerous cracks in the scaffolding holding me up.
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People are going to betray you the way Judas betrayed Jesus, the way Brutus betrayed Caesar, and you will love them anyway.
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There is nothing more dangerous than a girl who is aware of the flames inside her, and all the damage she can do.
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The river takes what she wants, does what she desires, and washes over anything that stands in her way.
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I am trying to stop being the ashes that you left behind.
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Only the brave and the broken are kind in this world.
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Perhaps magic is in the habit of choosing sharp-eyed girls who ask too many questions for their own good. Perhaps it chooses girls who are not unloved, but not fully loved either.
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The bird building her home on your windowsill has every nest destroyed before. The spider that is delicately weaving a masterpiece has had every single thread broken before. And despite it all, they try again.
NIKITA GILL