She tickled easily. All the laughs she hadn’t laughed fully, her body held on to them in the corners of itself. Under her chin, the sides of her belly, her armpits, soles of her feet. He knew that. And every time he wanted to feel like all was OK with the world, he’d tickle her.
The more I see women gain power the more I realise abuse of power doesn't come from genitals or gender but from character. Eradicating men isn't going to eradicate abuse. It'll just change its texture.
I'm hopelessly in love with the ugliest thing in the world. I've tried to not be trust me. But it's just not in me. Most people wouldn't even spend two minutes with her. They only wish her on everyone else. She screams and hurts and even kills. Yet here I am.
There's only two kinds of people really that matter. Soldiers and artists. Soldiers groom their ugliness so the artists can safely groom their beauty. Neither can exist without the other.