“It’s you and me, Kid.”

{internal monologue}

Little Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet,
eating her curds and whey.

Along came a spider
who sat down beside her,
and yet she does not stray.

Though an arachnid–
preferable sidekick,
better than being slain.

For, vacant across the room:
“A stool?” No! a tomb!
where he-wolf lies in wait.

I don’t want to carry bear spray
because I’m afraid of being
attacked by a bear; I want to
carry bear spray because I’m afraid
of being attacked by a man.

If I had to choose between being
alone in a forest with a bear
or being alone in a forest
with a man, I would choose
the bear. See, you can reason
with a hungry bear; you cannot
reason with a hungry man.

There was never a “before” sadness.

Perhaps my sorrow is like god:
it is impossible to precede
something that has always been.

And the irony, although cruel,
lies in the following fact:

People always leave,
but the loneliness never does.

“Is that the only thing people are good for?”
She whispered.
“Leaving?”

You can take the girl
out of the traumatic environment.

But you can’t take
the trauma out of the girl.

The term “ghosting” is inaccurate.

Ghosts actually care enough to stick around
because that’s the only way
they can haunt you.

To say a guy “ghosts” you when he doesn’t text you back is an insult to real ghosts

(see, real ghosts are actually
capable of commitment).

I am not an apostate;
I’m a feminist.