There is a gun in my stomach. There is a hole in my throat. There is a reason why every good thing ends with a forest burning. Your hand on my throat. None of that is good anymore. How could it be? I am not a little girl anymore. I am not even a girl. I haven’t been a good one since I was a kid. Not even then.
excerpt from There’s A Lot of Good Reasons to Go Out West by SK Osborn (via insteadofdisappearing)




















