Only skinny enough when starving, only successful enough when exhausted.

Finally feminist enough to realise I was all out of fucks to give

Finally feminist enough to realise I was all out of ducks to give.

They weren’t children anymore either, and juries aren’t kind to women unless they’re ‘perfect victims’.

...I'd felt dread about how average and suburban Brisbane seemed. The normalcy was stifling and that I yearned for bigger things, that I missed New York.

Being in a relationship meant compromising on things I’d barely finished fighting for.

It wasn't just him in the same way it wasn't just me. It was because I was sick of men like him. Because I'd seen them all, each as unoriginal in their selfishness as the next.

The ugly parts of my life kept crashing into the beautiful ones.

How could I tell him what was actually eating at me, rotting on the inside? How could I do that to my mother and father—make them as sad as I knew they’d be? At least if I carried my Secret alone, there would be only one casualty.