excerpts from the book i'll never write

by Nadia Nell Starbinski

I am sad. Not in this beautiful way that everyone romanticized.

I am suffocating, yet I am the one holding the bag over my head.

There is something about the way he lets flowers bloom against the canvas of her skin that makes her forget the way those very same roots begin to creep up her throat and constrict her breathing.

everything she willingly distorted for the sake of her own delusions of serenity.

How often do we not only willingly distort our reality but crave the distortion?

I think the most effective way is kissing someone who’s name you will never be able to say without shaking.

Sometimes there are people who come into your life and leave a permanent mark. They paint your soul different colors and change the way you see the world.

Love yourself enough to know when to walk away.