Samantha Clark

I wish I had a cathartic ending to this war, something to write in the history books. But I am learning. We all are learning.

Having a mental illness is not a weakness; it is not a curse.

When was the last time you considered what the word essential means?

The tragic moments that live deep in the shadows of my soul are important. They are lessons, not mistakes.

It is incredibly common to ask yourself such questions during the early stages of a romance, especially if it has been so overwhelmingly lighthearted—but there is rarely a time that seems appropriate to have “the talk.”

Do whatever makes your heart sing and ride out that song however long you damn-well please. You strut your beautiful self any place you want, at any time.

The more people I am able to meet, however, the more I learn about myself.

In the course of an early adulthood life, we go through this strange rollercoaster relationship with our mother.

Chemistry is like rhythm, you either have it or you don’t.

Even after all my time soul-searching, I find that some things still continue to haunt me.

It wasn’t until I called my mother the next day that I realized exactly what I had experienced: an anxiety attack. Cue more tears.

Our survival instincts compel us to feel less.