I was a bright teenage girl... I was loved by so many... But, in one day I suddenly realized I was afraid. Afraid. Afraid of death, pain, my frailty, the outside, and even certain rooms of my house.
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a celebration of warmth and depth
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I was a bright teenage girl... I was loved by so many... But, in one day I suddenly realized I was afraid. Afraid. Afraid of death, pain, my frailty, the outside, and even certain rooms of my house.
Read moreimage by crashlovedog
Dear "Help, I'm a six-year-old trapped in an adult's body" person…
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These fervent femmes prevail in social justice.
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By saying the well-behaved rarely make history not only condones one’s lack of research, but excuses it.
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This is about mental illness, despair, hiding, not reaching out when you need to. It's about the shame that goes along with not being the perfect ideal of everything.
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How do we make sense of world where sexual predators rule? How do make peace with a certain dirty word? How do we make any of this better?
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