One of Us Is Dead

by Jeneva Rose

People that get their way think they’re the ones in control. But the ones that give are the ones that rule. It’s not the politician in office, but the donor behind the check that wields the sword.

The truth is, I’d rather be dead than poor, and the easiest way to stay rich is to stay powerful.

As humans, we define ourselves by the things we are most proud of—being a mother, a salon owner, a free spirit. But what happens when you lose that? Who do you become?

We all leave some imprint of ourselves behind, even plastic ponytail holders.

I’m not the woman I was when he married me, and I’m not the woman I was even six months ago. I no longer know who I am, because sometimes we become strangers to even ourselves.

I didn’t want to be that, but sometimes you become the person you hate the most.

Women weren’t meant to be quiet.

“Man bashing. There’s always time for that.”

Love and entrepreneurship didn’t go hand in hand, because they both required sacrifice. And we only have so much we can sacrifice before we have nothing left to give.

She was a fighter, and I would never use another woman’s strength against her.

“We do what women do: we handle it.”

Some people can be saved. But not all of them.