female, nineteen, aspiring rcmp officer.
little by little, you're just letting yourself become [you].
I think she was afraid to love sometimes.
I think it scared her.
She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it was... And I think that's why she also struggled with love. She couldn't touch it. She couldn't hold on to it and make sure it never changed.
Your personality - the real you inside - was the price of beauty.
It didn’t matter what you looked like. It was how you carried yourself, how you saw yourself.
Sometimes you can’t choose what you love.
High school wasn’t a trial by fire or some ordeal that had to be survived. It was all a big joke. You just had to provide the laugh track.
Maybe when they do the operation-when they grind and stretch your bones to the right shape, peel off your face and rub all your skin away, and stick in plastic cheekbones so you look like everyone else-maybe after going through all that you just aren’t very interesting anymore.
What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
And the worst thing was, there were no mirrors out there in the wild, so the princess was left wondering whether she in fact was still beautiful… or if the fall had changed the story completely.
Everyone in the world was programmed by the place they were born, hemmed in by their beliefs, but you had to at least try to grow your own brain.
She carried a knife inside of herself now, one that was always cutting her. She could feel it every time she swallowed, every time her thoughts strayed from the splendor of the wild.