It seems impossible that you can love one person so much, no matter what happens, no matter what they do.

Writing is very cathartic for me. As a teacher, I hear many students say that writing can be painful and exhausting. It can be, but ultimately I believe that if you push through, the process is healing and exhilarating.

He said, You're so tiny, like a doll, you look like you might break. I wanted him to break me. Part of me did.

Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.

I am constantly thinking ahead to what I want to write about in the future, and when I'm done with one project, I give myself a little time and then start the next one.

My heart is a teacup with hairline cracks. I feel like I have to walk real carefully so it won't get shaken and just all shatter and break.

I saw my own blood and I thought, how could I live in a world where this exists- where love can become death?