I thought the unceasing self-loathing was normal. I’d grown accustomed to fighting with myself in my own head. Half of my brain said, “You’re no good. You’ll never do it.”
This is for every woman whose hips intimidated men’s heads until her mind wasn’t heard and her heart was fully spent. For every woman who lived but chose to suicide commit. This is for the women who got the shitty end of the stick.