"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth."
But there’s no use in talking to people who
have a home. They have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lied you head.
I was always an unusual girl. My mother told me that I had a chameleon soul - no moral compass pointing me due north, no fixed personality - just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide as wavering as the ocean."
"I am perpetually noting the irony of the voicemails of psychiatrists when their automated voices proclaim, “if this is an emergency,” because every second in my skin is an emergency. All of these bones are five alarm incinerators and plastic bag suffocations. All thoughts are drownings and atom bombings. Traffic accidents and arsonist blazes. Yes, it is an emergency. I am on fire."
She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?"