Shout

too many grown-ups tell kids to follow their dreams like that's going to get them somewhere Auntie Laurie says follow your nightmares instead cuz when you figure out what's eating you alive you can slay it

We should teach our girls that snapping is ok, instead of waiting for someone else to break them.

Censorship is the child of fear the father of ignorance and the desperate weapon of fascists everywhere.

the only thing that helped me breathe was opening a book

Eve ate the apple because Adam was afraid

the false innocence you render for them by censoring truth protects only you

This note about anatomy from me to you is for the remembering that after you speak after you shout your open mouth will breathe in the light for which you've hungered and your backbone will unfurl, until you can again dance to the beat of your steadfast heart.

This is the story of a girl who lost her voice and wrote herself a new one.

This is not a resting bitch face This is a touch-me-and-die face

I was in a race to see if I would die from the outside in or the inside out.

I wanted a coffin made of wood from trees not yet planted my appetite for time was growing.

Trying to figure out what you want to do, who you want to be, is messy as hell; the best anyone can hope for is to figure out the next step.

Too many grown ups tell kids to follow their dreams, like that's going to get them somewhere. Auntie Laurie says follow your nightmares instead. Because when you figure out what's eating you alive, you can slay it.

untreated pain is a cancer of the soul that can kill you

The taste of shame smells like stubborn vomit in your hair lingering no matter how often you was it sometimes you have to shave yourself bald and start again like a newly hatched chick leaving the faint rot of broken magic in shattered eggshell pieces behind you.

Take your age the first time a stranger touched your body with danger in his hands, evil-minded... But it's not usually a stranger, is it<

Rape wounds deeply, splits open your core with shrapnel. The stench of the injury attracts maggots which hatch into clouds of doubt and self-loathing the dirt you feel inside you nourishes anxiety, depression, and shame poisoning your blood, festering in your brain until you will do anything to stop feeling the darkness rising within anything to stop feeling– untreated pain is a cancer of the soul that can kill you

Pain won't be contained by bars or marks your scars deserve attention, too.

When one suffers, all are weakened, but when everyone thrives, we dance.

She snapped," they said. "Couldn't take it anymore." "Reached her breaking point." We should teach our girls that snapping is okay instead of waiting for someone else to break them.

But I had never seen a first aid kit for the spirit...

stories entertain engage, outrage uplift, help us overcome our troubles . . . stories activate, motivate, celebrate, cerebrate, snare our fates and share our great incarnations of hope

Defense lawyer did his job by attacking the victim shouting that she drank, she danced, she dressed to look good she wanted it, she followed him liked it rough or planned on marriage or extortion as she cried on the stand, long blonde hair in front of her face, a curtain for her sanity, he painted her into a corner with accusations

Sisters, drop everything. Walk away from the lake, leaning on each other's shoulders when you need the support. Feel the contradictions of another truth ready to be born: shame turned inside out is rage.

translates as “cozy” but is much, much more; hygge is sitting on a dark winter’s night with friends or family, the room candlelit, everyone knitting or crocheting sipping coffee or beer, eating pastry or smørrebrød talking, talking, listening, talking, enjoying the pleasure of kindred spirits with the winds howling outside

Don't get killed. Don't get robbed. Don't get billed for jobs that were abandoned. Don't let your house burn or your pipes burst or your children curse. Don't let your purse get stolen. Don't get trapped underwater. Don't get food poisoning or the flu. For God's sake get vaccinated. Don't get cancer. Seriously. Do. Not. Get. Cancer. Don't get t-boned by a drunk. Don't get struck by lightning. Don't get allergies. Don't get depressed. Don't get noticed by the IRS. Don't get catfished or gaslit. Don't get ghosted by an ex. Don't get talked into a bigger car. Don't get bit by a rabid dog. Don't get your boo angry. Don't get cheated on. Don't get called out, dragged, tagged in pics you don't remember. Don't get raped cause the jack asses and idiots will say that's your fault, too.

I'm sorry you didn't get the help you needed. You deserved a soft afghan wrapped around you, People to hold your hands while you learned to walk again, So stand with us now.

Sisters of the torn shirts. Sisters of the chase around the desk, casting couch, hotel room, file cabinet. Sisters dragging shattered dreams, bruised hopes, ambitions abandoned in the dirt. Sisters fishing one by one in the lake of shame. Hooks baited with fear always come back empty. Truth dawns slow when you've been beaten and lied to, but it burns hard and bright once it wakes. Sisters, drop everything. Walk away from the lake, leaning on each other's shoulders when you need the support. Feel the contractions of another truth ready to be born. Shame turned inside out is rage.