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

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.

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?

Loving you and leaving you taste the same in the mouth?

Women like me bleed on command.

This body belongs to all those who live in it.

The only difference between a mother and her daughter is how long they’ve lived with the trauma.

I never wanted to be so alone that all I have is you.

Did our fathers create silence or is it that what makes them our fathers?

Do girls really mature faster than boys or are you looking for a way to sexualize young girls without feeling guilty about it?