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i could see the veins through your skin like a map to inside you. how could skin be that thin? i was so afraid you might drop and break. i stopped breathing so you wouldn't.

Francesca Lia Block

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Francesca Lia Block
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: January 3
Editor
Novelist
Poet
Writer
LA
California
Like
Breathing
Skin
Skins
Afraid
Veins
Wouldn
Maps
Inside
Thin
Break
Drop
Might
Stopped

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You can't doubt so much, Psyche
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Choose to believe in your own myth your own glamour your own spell a young woman who does this (even if she is just pretending) has everything.
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The wishes might not come true the way you think they will, not everything will be perfect, but love will come because it always does, because why else would it exist and it will make everything hurt a little less. You just have to believe in yourself.
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I didn't tell him that what I was most scared of, most haunted by, was something I didn't understand and could never run away from. It was myself.
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He said, You're so tiny, like a doll, you look like you might break. I wanted him to break me. Part of me did.
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Stories are like genies...They can carry us into and though our sorrows. Sometimes they burn, sometimes they dance, sometimes they weep, sometimes they sing. Like genies, everyone has one. Like genies, sometimes we forget that we do. Our stories can set us free...When we set them free.
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Our eyelashes brushed like they would weave together by themselves, turning us into one wild thing. I say, “I think I missed you before I met you even.
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I wanted to die, then. I wanted to destroy the body I was trapped in, become what she was, no matter what it took. No matter how much mutilation or pain. But he looked away, at me. He pulled my face down and pressed my lips against his like he was almost trying to suffocate us both.
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Love is a dangerous angel.
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Sometimes I wanted to peel away all of my skin and find a different me underneath.
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Every girl is a goddess.
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War is being reminded that you are completely at the mercy of death at every moment, without the illusion that you are not. Without the distractions that make life worth living.
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But be careful sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing, not running away.
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I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive stress of intense happiness, can compel me to express myself through the written word.
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