Make peace with your body, it's not manmade, there are no flaws, there are no mistakes.

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.

Make love like you have no secrets like you've never been left never been hurt like the world don't owe you a single wretched thing.

I tore up and ate my own passport in an airport hotel once. I'm bloated with language I can’t afford to forget.

It's not my responsibility to be beautiful. I'm not alive for that purpose. My existence is not about how desirable you find me.

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

There is no intimacy like that between two women who have chosen to be sisters.