natasha

“my mother didn't want to hurt me,
but she was broken.
her brokenness cut into me
and made me bleed.

she didn't know how to love,
or at least how to love me.
it didn't even matter that she hurt me;
I just wanted her to be sorry.

she said that she loved me,
but it often felt like hate.
when I finally had enough and tried to be free,
she looked at me with desperation and cried,

"you are abandoning me!"

so, I stayed and I suffered,
and I did my best to love her.
as a woman, I have so much empathy
for my mother, but as a daughter, I have so much anger.”
― Rose Brik, My Father's Eyes, My Mother's Rage

“Uno de los motivos porque quiero tanto a este perro es por sus ojos. Desde que estoy enfermo la gente me mira de distintas maneras. En los ojos de algunos veo temor, en los de otros intolerancia. En los de la abuela veo lástima. En los de papá enojo y vergüenza. En los de mamá miedo y reproche. En tus ojos curiosidad y misterio, a menos que creas que mi enfermedad no tiene nada que ver con que estemos juntos en este momento. Los únicos ojos que me miran igual, en los únicos ojos que me veo como soy, no importa si estoy sano o enfermo, es en los ojos de mi perro. En los ojos de Sacha.”
― Antonio Santa Ana, Los ojos del perro siberiano

“Men often think they deserve a sticker for treating women like people.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, Daisy Jones & The Six

“One thing I'm sure Colborne will never understand is that I need language to live, like food—lexemes and morphemes and morsels of meaning nourish me with the knowledge that, yes, there is a word for this. Someone else has felt it before.”
― M.L. Rio, If We Were Villains