I still think about him, even if I don't want to. And I don't think that'll ever change.
I love my man, I hate his touch.
I'm making it work by working a few jobs at once and I can't imagine living any other way.
When you go to get your eyebrows done, they ask if you want your upper lip done.
When he was done talking, I couldn't help but cry.
At first, I thought it was nothing. I believed him when he said he was getting busier.
Women can't possibly experience actual pain, we're just overreacting.
Hundreds of black lives are lost still with the aid of visual evidence. What will it take to get the people meant to protect us to do their jobs?
I like to save songs I'm listening to so I can go back and relive those times in my life.