Ordinary women attempt to change our bodies to resemble a pornographic ideal. Ordinary women construct a false self and come to hate this self.
Before a secret is told, one can often feel the weight of it in the atmosphere.
It is a grief over the fate of the Earth that contains within it a joyful hope, that we might reclaim this Earth.
We keep secrets from ourselves that all along we know.
Every time I deny myself I commit a kind of suicide.
Far more frightening than the thought of dying was the experience of erasure already occurring in my life. My fear of becoming someone who did not count.