“Last night in a place that has become both a haven and hell. The stranger wonders how a childhood home can hold such a dichotomy and they are lucky. They don’t know the way families can split, diverge, be forced back together again leaving all the raw wounds pressed together. Open skin pushed against open, aching skin. How do you grow without healing? You don’t.”
— Olivia Larson // excerpt from a book I’ll never write