It Was Hollow, My Triumph, I Could

Express Everything You Like. No Word Can Hurt You. None. No Idea Can Hurt You. Not Being Able To Express An Idea Or Word Will Hurt You More. Like A Bullet.

That Was The Moment He Got The Idea He Possessed Me In A Certain Way, And That Was The Moment I Grew Tired Of Him.

I Wish That I Could Love Someone So Much That I Would Die From It.

Every Time I End A Book, I Look Down At Myself.

I Didn't Really Understand Racism Because I Grew Up In An All-black Society, So I Didn't See How It Was Possible Not To Like Me!