Every paper girl needs at least one string.
One day, youâ€™re 17 and youâ€™re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.
Whatever. Great day. Today. Best day of my life.
Before any of it could make sense, it had to be heard.
my lungs sucked at being lungs.