Some people survive and talk about it. Some people survive and go silent. Some people survive and create. Everyone deals with unimaginable pain in their own way, and everyone is entitled to that, without judgment.
Every love does not have to be made of desire. Some loves are kept for the people who stand by you through everything. Some soulmates are sisters not lovers. Some loves are for those who give you hope. And some for the strength, for wisdom, for dreams.
We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.
Every time a man takes from a woman’s body without her permission, he is disrespecting the womb from which he was born, he is defiling the place that protected him when he was at his most defenseless.
Some things are beautiful, but they are beautiful in the way of the sun. If you fly too close, they will melt your wings and send you plummeting into the sea.
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.
There are graveyards inside you made of people that made you ache, made of memories that you barely survived made of trauma and heartbreak. These graveyards need to become gardens where you plant flowers that blossom, for you to let go.
