The next week (or so) has been bequeathed from hell to challenge me.
The Liebster Award is designed to encourage connections between bloggers. So let's get connecting!
A century later, arms companies hold remembrance day events, paying with money steeped in the very red the poppies on their lapels bade them never spill again.
I didn't want to be asexual. I didn't realise that I didn't have to relinquish my beloved bisexual identity in order to make some space for this little bit of ace.
I accept that this isn’t the kind of grandiose statement the great poets of our time will write songs about. But it is a huge, empowering revelation for me.
I'm fat. This isn't a statement that is up for debate. I am beautiful. I am also fat.
People were swelling with an outpouring of almost regimented grief that I felt cast to the side of; watching with a furrowed brow, scrunching up my face as I tried desperately to march in time, going red and tearful with frustration as I failed to keep step.