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Her beauty made her more wild. And her wildness made her beautiful. She could do as she pleased. Sometimes she wore her hair loose and half-tangled, sometimes she slouched and sucked her cheeks. Sometimes she danced when there was no music.
Hermione Eyre, Viper Wine
I never got to be in the driver’s seat of my own life,” she’d wept to me once, in the days after she learned she was going to die. “I always did what someone else wanted me to do. I’ve always been someone’s daughter or mother or wife. I’ve never just been me.” “Oh, Mom,” was all I could say as I stroked her hand. I was too young to say anything else.
Cheryl Strayed, Wild
Of all the things I'd done in my life, of all the versions of myself I'd lived out, there was one that had never changed: I was a writer
i can relate to this 100%