Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.

Our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there. It’s that we ignore the ones who are.

Everyone’s chest is a living room wall with awkwardly placed photographs hiding fist-shaped holes.

Do you know they found land mines in woman's souls.

If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it; if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

This is my body. It is no one's but mine.

But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back.