It’s crazy how the stakes can rise from the smallest things- as if we never tried to see each other to speak with love, to show compassion in the face of one another’s fears.

I used to think I was strong and kind and brave in spite of being your daughter, but I’ve realized that it is actually the opposite. I am strong and kind and brave because I am your daughter. And so are my sisters, even if they aren’t ready to believe that.

Sometimes it is easy to believe that people are out to cause harm, to feel we have to put up walls and fences for protection.

We grow layers of thorns, not realizing…

The thoughts swirl and spiral,
resenting old friends and new.
Wishing and washing when it comes to family bonds,
longing and detesting all at once.

A collection of things I've probably told my sister at some point and will probably tell her another hundred times or more, just to be safe.

Mildly explicit. Abuse and love look awfully similar in the beginning, don't they? I think children have a special way of knowing the difference though. Trust the children.

A rough first attempt at poetry.

I see you there, watching and rewatching those videos of women catching their men staring at the booties of Instagram…

An honest and uncensored journal entry on abuse, forgiveness, and moving on.