The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.  survivants
"I go through phases. Somedays I feel like the person I’m supposed to be, and then somedays, I turn into no one at all. There is both me and my silhouette. I hope that on the days you find me and all I am are darkened lines, you still are willing to be near me.”
— Mary Kate Teske 
"If you’re feeling small today I dare you to sit up straighter, look someone who scares you directly in the eye, take up room at the dinner table, make yourself bigger, when ‘sorry’ laps at the back of your tongue, tries to pick up after you, remind yourself that your existence doesn’t demand an apology, that you are allowed to make mess and take up space, do not be afraid to expand. Every single goddamn minute. Expand, expand, expand”
Femme Fatale 
"What I’ve Learned:
1. A girl can lose feelings for you over night.
2. A kiss can be just that, a kiss. Completely meaningless.
3. Love can be one sided but I still wonder if that is love at all
4. Never beg for someone to stay or to love you. You shouldn’t have to beg for someone to be a part of your life or to love you. You deserve better than that.
5. Stop breaking your ribs to make space for those who do not belong there.
6. Learning to breathe again is harder than the doctors said it would be.
7. I don’t know what hurts more at night; being alone or being in love.
8. Laying with someone in bed at night is temporary. It won’t get rid of the lonely. You will still wake up and leave in the morning with a heavy heart and no hand to hold.
9. Sometimes the sky rains gasoline instead of water and you have to be strong enough and ignore the urge to set yourself on fire.
10. I will be okay someday. Bad things happen for no reason sometimes and things end but that shouldn’t mean you should come to an end too. The ocean will always have waves; I just have to learn to swim through them for a bit longer.
11. The stretch marks I left on my mother from birth will not be another suicide letter I never finished.”
— Oliver Nolau 
"You tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake…You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that.”
— Women Who Are Difficult to Love, Warsan Shire
"You are a wonder. Think flowers, think the rainstorm that destroys them. You are a balance of soft and terrifying and the best part is - you know it.”
— A small note enclosed in a book given to me from Lenny 
"Stars are not small or gentle.
They are writhing and dying and burning.
They are not here to be pretty.
I am trying to learn from them.”
Caitlyn Siehl, “Sky Poem” (via chocolatefrogs)
"

I have a dream where you’re laid out outside
of a gas station. The asphalt digging into your milky spine
like crumbs of bread in butter.

There is a hole in your chest too big for me to fill.
My hands are small; even put together, it’s not enough.
I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be. I know it’s silly
to be sorry for having small hands and I know you
love them just the way they are, but now your lips
are turning pale, losing heat, and my hands are small.

Growing soggy from being soaked in blood.
My fingers slowly breaking off. Red
used to be my favorite color, now it makes me cry.

I have a dream where you’re dying and I can’t save you
and I wake up and my hands are still small,
and you’re still dead. A belly ache trying to rip
my insides out of me, a fever swallowing me whole,
the empty space in the back of my mouth
where the tooth is never going to grow back.

Were you afraid? Are you okay wherever you are?
When it rains
is it because you’re still bleeding somewhere?

I’m learning to hold things without dropping them.
Learning to not feel your heart stopping
in everything I touch. Your last breath was taken
looking at me, but I’m not the one who took it.
I know you wanted me to be the one. I wasn’t mad.
There was blood in your mouth and all I could say
was I’ll miss you enough for the both of us.

I’ll tell your mother I did my best. Her cries pierce
through my ears and I know nothing will soothe her,
but I’ll tell her anyway. Tell her I still wake up
sometimes and also think it was all just a nightmare.
I’ll learn to forgive my hands for being so small.
At least I promise or try.

Nancy Barry, “Small Hands”
"We assume others show love the same way we do — and if they don’t, we worry it’s not there.”
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