How [stories] Are Told, Who

She Rested Her Head Against His And Felt, For The First Time, What She Would Often Feel With Him: A Self-affection. He Made Her Like Herself. With Him, She Was At Ease; Her Skin Felt As Though It Was Her Right Size.. It Seemed So Natural, To Talk To Him About Odd Things. She Had Never Done That Before. The Trust, So Sudden And Yet So Complete, And The Intimacy, Frightened Her.. But Now She Could Think Only Of All The Things She Yet Wanted To Tell Him, Wanted To Do With Him.

Relaxing Your Hair Is Like Being In Prison. You're Caged In. Your Hair Rules You. You Didn't Go Running With Curt Today Because You Don't Want To Sweat Out This Straightness. You're Always Battling To Make Your Hair Do What It Wasn't Meant To Do.

Honesty. And I Just Really Think There's A Fundamental Friendship That Needs To Exist, Whether It's A Lover, Whether It's A Sister...there's Just This Connection Both People Need To Be Effortlessly Themselves.

To Choose To Write Is To Reject Silence.

Our Histories Cling To Us. We Are Shaped By Where We Come From.