Best 9 quotes of April Daniels on MyQuotes

A new day is born in gleaming fire, rippling pools of light racing in from the horizon. It is one of the most breathtaking sights you can see. And we miss every second of it. We only have eyes for each other.

But I don’t get to fit. Not anywhere.

Her voice is soft and kind. "Danny, do you feel safe at home?" No. There it is. I don't feel safe at home. I open my mouth to say something, and as I do I realize that like my other, I can't give it a name. Not out loud. Not even to Valkyrja. Because if I admit it, if I call it what it is, then I can't hide from it anymore either. It becomes real in a way I am not ready for. Might never be ready for. Ther will be no illusions of safety, no peaceful times alone in my room. There will only be times when he's not hurting me.

I guess I just thought that I was finally a real girl." "Hey! None of that!" She takes me by the shoulders. "You think it's a uterus that makes a woman? Bullshit. You feel like you're a girl, you live it, it's part of you? Then you're a girl. That's the end of it, no quibbling. You're as real a girl as anyone.

Maybe it's because your mother is always Mom to you, or maybe it's because I was in denial, but finally it hits me: Mom is just as much his captive as I am. She's not just the quieter parent, the more reasonable one. She's the trustee trapped between the warden and the other prisoner. Immediately upon the heels of this understanding is another: I must not say this out loud. To say it out loud is to name it, and to name it is to give it irresistible power. That power will mean it can no longer be ignored. The polite fictions and convenient blind spots won't work anymore. Something will have to change. And I know, with a certainty that fills me with dread, this is something she will not do. If I say the name of this thing he's done to her, she will fight me. She will join him, because she'll have to. Because she'll have to destroy me or else admit I was right.

So much time lost, so much of my childhood gone, because nobody every asked the right questions.

So they spit on me. They're embarrassed by me. They hate me. FOR A MISTAKE THAT THEY MADE.

The dirty little secret about growing up as a boy is if you’re not any good at it, they will torture you daily until you have the good graces to kill yourself. The posturing and the dominance games are almost inescapable. It’s hard to walk from one end of school to the other without getting shoulder-checked in the halls. Locker rooms are a forgotten circle of Hell. God forbid anyone ever catch you sketching flowers in class, or reading a book that’s “for girls.” Maybe for people who really are boys, that stuff works. Maybe it fits for them.

The lie is suffocating. Every time I have to play along, I feel like I'm betraying myself. Sometimes when I see myself in a mirror, I get a little splash of fear sluicing down my spine.