Myself in Blue – Cover Reveal, Giveaway + Snippets!

Today is the Cover Reveal of Myself in Blue! There’s a Giveaway hosted by Itching for Books and many other blogs. Thanks guys! :)

Be sure to participate!

Here’s the cover

Want to read a bit of the story? Enjoy some snippets from chapter 1:

“I came back because I am dying. There’s no better way to put it, no sugarcoat for me, thanks. So many times I treated people like disposable pieces, sometimes like garbage, and now I’m disposable, I’m turning into garbage. The universe will throw me away in a while. In the meantime, I’m rotting from the inside out starting with my leg; something called Osteosarcoma eating me alive.

I guess it’s poetic in a way; I deserve every cancerous cell that rebelled against its sisters and started a war my body is doomed to lose. You may see the parallel; I was a cancer in my family, acting in the same way that’s going to kill me. I was removed, though, and I have no idea what it provoked in them. Are they better without me? Are they happy? Can they be happy after what happened that night? And…what really happened that night?

I shall die. I’ve often wished to die in the past five years, the guilt too heavy and the new life I was given too harsh to carry on. I’d never act on it though, too coward or too numb to care. I went on, day after day, just trying to survive another sunset without remembering; until my body decided it was time to go.

I’m not fully aware of the consequences of my disgusting capriciousness that night. What I do know is that I am so absurdly unfit to be part of that family after acting like I did—and I was certainly unfit before then —that I can’t find the courage to even try to make amends.

I accept my fate. Actually, I embrace it; I will die in pain. There was I, thinking I deserved unconditional attention, and how unfair it was having to share with my sisters, and now here I am, completely alone, knowing this family didn’t deserve what I brought upon them.

I never thought it would be easy coming back to mend things, to make peace with the past, and to have a final place to rest my body after my soul goes away. But I didn’t imagine coming so close and ending up frozen by the fear of rejection—which would only be fair, all things considered—and the incertitude about my capacity of feeling empathy for my sisters. Especially for my baby sister, the one who really stole my place.”

“Yes, my name’s Sunday. Not only that, it’s Sunday Morning. Actually, it’s Sunday Oshiro Morning, but no one cares about the Oshiro, my father’s name. That’s for two simple reasons; first, of course, the easy joke (that’s not a name, that’s an appointment!). Second, because every time someone hears the name ‘Morning’, they make the connection to my very, very famous mother, Iris Morning.

My father is famous too, but I think more as Iris Morning’s husband, than as Douglas Oshiro, brilliant multi instruments player, responsible for the majority of the songs my mother made eternal with her voice. It’s normal, I guess; people listen to a song and care more about the voice and the lyrics—my mother’s part. The one who’s putting his or her soul into the arrangements, the song, they usually don’t spend much time thinking of them.

Maybe I’m exaggerating, I don’t know, but that’s the impression I’ve always had. When you talk about Grandma’s Eye, their band, every single person knows what you’re talking about, they love the band, are big fans, blah, blah, blah. You ask for one name, one band member’s name, they most certainly will say Iris Morning before any of the others.

But don’t get me wrong, Mama deserves it all. She’s absolutely brilliant, she really is. Despite my flaws as a daughter, my lack of good sentiments, I’ve always been her biggest fan. Her voice is the one of an angel—a husky, deep angel. And her lyrics, oh my! She writes poems that my father puts into cadence. Together for 26 years, they made some of the most popular songs of all times.”

“Life punished me in various ways after I ran. I had good moments, but that was never the point; I didn’t deserve goodness, and I didn’t receive much of it. It was hard, it was thorny—nothing I would have expected in my previous princess life. And yet, it was never enough to repay for my sins. Only the cancer seemed like enough retribution.

The cancer made me think of them again while wake, intentionally, and of what I did. It made me come back. I imagined I could finally face them, now that I had something to show my regret, now that I could say, “look, I twisted everything, I know I don’t deserve your mercy, but at least you don’t have to worry anymore because I’m dying. Can I at least stay around until then?”

Despite the pain, the sense of being half in the grave, the demons that inhabit my soul for my past sins, it’s absurdly reassuring being so close again.

All the way back I felt my chest burning and wasn’t sure if it was fear, sorrow, shame or anxiety. And then I arrived and couldn’t bring my sorry self to the door.

I’m not ready yet. I’m so close, and yet not…there. I don’t feel entirely equipped; prepared to face them. I don’t know what I’m waiting for exactly, and it’s not as if I have much time to waste, but I’m waiting.

Nearby.“