CHAPTER 4
I knew writing this out would take a lot of my energy. I’m surprised I haven’t crashed yet. I’ve always dreamed of being a novelist one day. I’ve lived the past decade in that perpetual pre-aspiring author stage. Problem is I either write absolute fluff (the kind that would make even a teen-romance junkie gag), or I create something so real it sends me to bed for a week or two at a time.
Move over, J. K. Rowling, I’m hot on your heels.
As soon as I finish this month-long nap.
Once I woke up from my semester-long sleep, I tried hard for Chris. I’d swear on Gutenberg’s printing press how hard I tried. At first, things were going so well. Looking back, it was the dumbest breakup to start with. I thought we both needed time to focus on our studies. It was difficult maintaining a
