“I know I’m difficult to love but I’m going to need you to love me anyway.”

You look most like your father when you smile. It’s your ultimate betrayal.

You are a multiple choice exam and I have circled all the wrong answers.

Heaven is not something you need to die to get to.

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.

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

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.