I am not graceful. I am not a beautiful sunset or a wondrous moon lit night in the middle of summer. I am a trip over her own legs kinda girl. I am the girl covered in bumps and bruises from her millionth accident. I am not prim, proper and poised. I am baggy hoodies, curled up in a big comfortable chair with books on a cold winter’s night. I am not graceful, I am a fast descent from being on top of the world to crashing down without notice.
Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #332