I (Didn’t) Kill Myself: The Bipolar Edition

I don’t think anyone could have saved me. Not Jesus, not the warmth of a small child, not a favorite song or a cry from a friend, “How could you be so selfish?!”
How did they not see – how to we not see – that it isn’t about selfishness. It’s about escaping from a prison. You can’t tell me to hold on when absolutely nothing within me believes there is anything worth holding on for.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Howdy, folks! I’m sure if you’ve been around recently you’ve noticed some changes ’round these parts. I’m currently editing the site to make it much more user friendly. A few important additions: The sidebar menu has become a much easier way to navigate. A “Published Works” page can be found in the menu, so you can […]

a frayed string

I’m after a chance of hope, the last sputter of light from a dying fire, wondering why you won’t send off a brighter spark for me.

Romance As A Sexual Abuse Survivor

Am I supposed to feel like a slut or is that just a natural side effect of the surreptitious consequences that come along with being a sexual abuse survivor? – See more at: http://femininecollective.com/mechanical-progress/#sthash.pAE31rP5.dpuf