Take Me With You When You Go

Blood is thicker than water, I suppose. It can also leave a much crueler stain.

We thought there was a wall around our story. But what if there were windows?

Even if that something blew up in my face, I figure running toward is still better than running away,

Whenever you’re in the worst place, there is always a better place. Your abuser will try to hide it from you, but other people can help you get there.

Your heart is stronger than any of the hurts inflicted. Even the ones that were self-inflicted." - Ezra

If you don't loke your life, change it. Stop bitching and be the change you want to see in the world. You have made for bigger things.

I cried because I am starting to realize that to love someone, to really love them deeply, is to want them to be family.

If you’re used to people being shitty, it’s hard to accept niceness. Your instinct is to fuck it up. And run the hell away.

You can say things over and over to yourself, but the moment you say them out loud to someone else, they become something different, like you’re taking a fear and giving it a solid shape so it can actually hurt you. And when someone else says the things you’re saying in your head—that has the same effect. It should feel better to be sharing it, but it also makes it less deniable.

try not to listen to it, but when someone tells you those things enough, you can’t help it. Because if they speak loud enough and often enough, that’s the only voice you’re able to hear.

I think it's probably not healthy for the best part of me to be someone else.

It's that lies will come back to haunt you, and the people are more forgiving up front then if they find out later you have been lying all along

All my life, I’ve been furious with our dad. I’ve hated him and cursed him for leaving us with Mom and been so fucking angry that I wanted to kill him if I ever saw him again. And now, sitting in his living room, in the house he designed for his other family, I’m filled with this sick, guilty feeling, like I’d actually murdered someone. As if all this time, I’d betrayed him. Going from the emptiness and anger I’ve carried around with me like extra limbs, as much a part of me as my legs or arms, to a hollowed-out feeling of loss because this man actually wanted me.

If anything goes wrong at home, you can’t tell anyone outside of home. Pity is worse than pain, embarrassment is worse than help. If people treat you like shit, you still have to stay loyal to them. You still have to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe you are, in fact, shit and deserve to be treated the way they treat you.