I have cried so hard that my mother swore I cracked the sky. I have emptied bottles down my throat and felt my wrists erupt like volcanoes. I have clawed at the surface of my skin to free myself of the burden that is my own body. I have been left by a lover who did not love me with my clothes off; he told me that it burnt every time his palm traced over my thighs and he could feel every reason I had ever carved a line into my skin. I have walked through fire and met ghosts more full of life than myself. Do not tell me that I am not strong, so long as I am still breathing.
SURVIVAL, MG (via oeu)