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“You Have to be Odd to be Number 1” on the butt, I probably don’t look like much of a threat. Good. All the worse for them when my sparkles kick their asses.
extra half inch that officially put me in the five-foot category.
There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re at the top of the world…and then tumbling head over feet down a steep decline, your head hitting every rock along the way as blood forms in your mouth. One second, you’re feeling invincible, and the next, you’re broken and bleeding at the base of the proverbial mountain, staring up at the snowy peak you fell from.
yet with my illness, I have absolutely no control. It’s debilitating to live inside a body that doesn’t behave normally, to never know when it’s going to fail completely.
I’m going to find and kill whomever fed me roadkill in my sleep again.
Another day on my feet, no matter how bad the pain, is a win.
Even on my better days, there’s an undercurrent of agony to everything I do, a tiny sliver that has embedded itself in my side and no amount of pulling can remove.
“I think this is far enough away for no one to hear the screams?”
I finally understand how Anna feels in Frozen. I might even burst into song like a dramatic ass bitch. But instead of, “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” it’ll be, “Do You Want to Stab Your Brothers?”
akimbo.
I’ll be the friendship version of a mold or tumor, only less gross.
I’ve technically only known Tristan for about a day, but it almost feels as if I’ve known him longer. There’s something about the energetic boy that calls to me, calls to a piece of my soul, and I can’t ignore the persistent tug drawing me to him, even if I wanted to.
I know I literally just gave him permission to call me, but a part of me panics. I legit want to throw my phone as far as I can across the room, watch it shatter against the wall, and then go into the basement, grab my parents’ prized bazooka, and blow it to smithereens.
But I don’t want him to know about how fucked up I am. How fucked up my body is. If he knew, I have no doubt he would start treating me differently. They all would. My status at school would distort from “new girl” to “sick girl” in a span of seconds.
They’re the best of the best monster hunters in the United States.
But I’m horrible at reading people, especially men, so they could be constipated for all I know.
says we’re the tie-dyed version of the Addams family.”
Devyn’s voice reaches me from behind, making my stomach tighten more fiercely than it did the day my brothers laced my drink with laxatives. “See you later, bunny.” Oh, I’m going to kill him. If I don’t kiss him senseless first.
I once heard that describing chronic illnesses is like talking about a room on fire. You focus on the big, new items, like the fact that the curtains have caught on fire, but forget to mention the bookcase that’s been smoldering for a while now, because it’s just become your normal.
Trial, error, patience, and pain—that’s the life of chronic disease.
“Yeah. I’m going to…um…wipe my ass,” Caleb mutters, wincing at his piss-poor excuse.
The woman I am today has been forged in blood and sweat, rising from the ashes of pain and suffering.
