“I do not function properly.
I am nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe.”
“I wonder at my inca-pacity for easy banter, smooth conversation, empty words to fill awkward moments. I don’t have a closet filled with umms and ellipses ready to insert at the beginnings and ends of sentences. I don’t know how to be a verb, an adverb, and kind of modifier. I’m a noun through and through.”
“We are synonyms but not the same.”
“Men with guns have never put me at ease no matter how many times they promised they were killing for good reason.”
“I don’t know why my heart is losing its mind.”
“...I’m only just beginning to realize how quickly I came to rely on the healing proper-ties of an excellent hug.”
“I can’t be my own person if I constantly require someone else to hold me together.”
“I’m beginning to think of hope as a dangerous, terrifying thing.”
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