I won't glorify or romanticise heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.

Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else; they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.

The ego hurts you like this: you become obsessed with the one person who does not love you. blind to the rest who do.

I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing.

Essentially, if our secrets are secrets because we are told to be ashamed, then we must share them. There is no shame in being sad or struggling or trying to heal. We are all desperate, depraved and sacred. We are all terrible and brillIant. I can list all the things that can make a girl want to escape her own body (re: patriarchy). But I’d rather list all the things that make me want to stay in my body, and adorn it like a home, rub oils into my skin, tell it how sorry I am for trying to leave, for trying to hurt it into submission

Two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.

With you, intimacy colors my voice. Even 'hello' sounds like 'come here'.