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wonder what it’s like to cut into a person with a scalpel. To feel their skin separate under my hand. To see their insides. I can’t wait to find out.
Truth be told, I’ve only kissed a girl once, and I didn’t even want to do it. She kissed me. Except the only people who know about that are me and her. And now just me.
After all, the less time I spend with the chief of police, the better.
have something called von Willebrand disease, which basically means that if I get a papercut, I’m going to leave a trail of blood behind me.
Why is dating so hard? Why can’t I just find a great guy, marry him, and live happily ever after? Is that really too much to ask for?
