Ungraceful

I’ve got a secret. A sorta dark-ish ‘sometimes cool’ but steadily morphing into a ‘ruining my life while I attempt (and fail) to avoid any and all brutal maimings’ kind of secret.

Will we girls ever learn? No probably not, but history repeats as my story begins with a guy. Yes, there’s always a guy. Asher. Freaking. Grey.

Before HIM, I was blissfully ignorant of my current crap storm. I was graduating high school, selecting tupperware for my new bachelor pad in New York (shut up, it’s exciting!), getting straight A’s across the board … OK that’s a lie, but otherwise, everything was pretty ordinary. Sorta boring actually, definitely not ‘death knocking on your door’ exciting, however, I can now say with all honestly, boring is underrated.

I should have known from the start that someone with hair that perfect would have A) a shifty evil side and B) boat loads of neurotic baggage. My alarm bells should have been ringing off the charts, but said bells were being quashed by raging teenage hormones. If someone could bottle those suckers up, I’m pretty sure it’d be more potent then nuclear warfare. 

I’ve been informed that I’m not who I thought I was. Actually NOTHING is how I thought it was. Is this a good thing? The jury is still out, but I guess avoidance of said maimings will be my new measure of success at life. Awesome.