YOW.

“Strength grows in the moment when you think you can’t go on but you keep going anyway.”

When it rains look for rainbows, when it's dark look for stars.

You can be sorry. But you can’t change the story. Remember that.

Heal before having children so your children don't have to heal from having you as a parent.

If suicide ever crosses your mind, just know I would rather listen to your story than attend your funeral.

“I couldn’t heal because I kept pretending I wasn’t hurt.”

“Some days I miss the bond, then I remember the disrespect.”

When it’s over, leave. Don’t continue watering a dead flower.

Sometimes I think of you, Medusa. Inside your temple, mournful, surrounded by a hundred stone statues. The men who came to kill you and never left  were named lost heroes, warriors, demigods whilst you were called monster, gorgon, terror. (Because the stories were always written by men) But this was never a story about a monster. It was always about a woman burned for a Sea God’s sin, a pawn in an ancient game the fates would never let her win. You did not desecrate that which is sacred, it was him. (But your story was always written by men) You begged him not to visit you, you pleaded with every God. But the Gods turned away when you needed them. You did not want to be remembered this way. And then one day, whilst you slept, a son of Zeus came. And killed you before you could even look his way. (And he too was named hero because the stories were always written by men) Someone once said, words cut deeper than a knife. That history is told by the victors. That he who tells the story is the one who controls the world. Women did not get to write your story, Medusa. Because if we did, a very different tale would be told. (And in our tale, you would not be Monster. But Priestess. Goddess. A maiden who once had a heart of gold.)

I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I am someone’s double shot of tequila.

“To whom do I owe the biggest apology? No one’s been crueller than I’ve been to me.”

You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.

Happiness never decreases by being shared.

It could all be gone tomorrow. Always remember that.

Nothing on earth can make up for the loss of one who has loved you.