Nicke Pearson

“Standing on the front steps and trying to catch my breath, I want to claw my skin off. Despite all of the things that make me me - my personality, my heart, my sense of humor - I've been reduced to nothing more than a grainy filter and a pair of tits. To a mere sex object.
I wonder whether I'll ever stop feeling so dirty.”
― Laura Steven, The Exact Opposite of Okay

“I mean, anyone can get shot in the head by the Taliban, but it takes a really big person to text a fuckboy. [I am 113 percent being sarcastic here. I firmly believe Malala should be leader of the free world, and also CEO of Hershey's because I swear to God peanut butter cups are getting smaller, which is an act of terrorism in intself.]”
― Laura Steven, The Exact Opposite of Okay

“As many of the most vile insults usually are, these comments are disguised as concern, like when fat-shamers preach to the obese about their health when really they're just judgemental reptiles who don't like to look at stretch marks lest they choke on their meal-replacement shakes.”
― Laura Steven, The Exact Opposite of Okay

“Was so mad last night I couldn't even bring myself to type out the exchange with Mr. Wells. In fact, I'm still so angry I'm just lying in bed in a vague state of furious nausea, like how I imagine Melania feels when she watches Donald remove his shirt.”
― Laura Steven, The Exact Opposite of Okay