To whom it may concern

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The year I turned sixteen was, for lack of a more poetic descriptor, a bit of a garbage heap. My parents split up. My Nana died. I spent the entirety of my grade ten year trying to eat as little as I could, and exercising as much as possible. The acne on my forehead, chest, and… Continue reading It was the best of times, it was the worst of times