The Opinions Of Others Cannot

Writing Means Not Just Staring Ugliness In The Face, But Finding A Way To Embrace It.

We May Both Be Bad, But There’s A Huge Difference Between Us—i’m Not Content With Being This Way.

His Hands Skim My Bare Arms. “just Bounce A Little When You Walk,” He Says, Kissing My Forehead, “and Pretend You’re Afraid Of Their Guns” —another Kiss Between My Eyebrows— “and Act Like The Shrinking Violet You Could Never Be ”—a Kiss On My Cheek— “and You’ll Be Fine.

It Will Be Difficult To Break The Habits Of Thinking Abnegation Instilled In Me, Like Tugging A Single Thread From A Complex Work Of Embroidery. But I Will Find New Habits, New Thoughts, New Rules. I Will Become Something Else.

What's Your Name? Um... Think About It. You Don't Get To Pick Again. Tris.