If you have horizontal ridges in your toenails, let me totally ruin your day: YOU ARE DYING CALL 911.
This is Google's special magic: it can make even the most normal person into a gibbering hypochondriac. I got these little horizontal ridges in my big toenails, and I thought, "Oh, I'll google it and figure out what those are," and this is what it comes back with: "Beau's Lines are horizontal ridges in the nails that may be caused by nail infection, trauma, severe illness, malnutrition, diabetes, metabolic disorders, heart disease, and DEATH. Or they may be nothing, who knows!"
The information age is a dark and scary place. ;_;
I was going to write about losing the keys, the sky, the kids, the things I left behind. I didn't.
Red Bull is like crack, only you don't have to stick it up your nose or into your arm. Wait--can you stick crack in your arm? I don't think it's something that you can shoot up, maybe.
It is one-thirty in the morning and my mind is like my story, breaking down and reshaping itself. My subconcious squirmed out from my grip. It slipped away and is shredding two months of hard work to ribbons. ...okay, maybe it wasn't hard work, but even so.
Even so, I love these characters. Since November, Elise and Levi have grown from two images in my head to breathing, thinking people. (Well, Elise has. Levi's working on it.) Elise, that girl in my head, deserves a story. I'm not going to throw it away on the whim of a fickle mind. Even if said mind is my own.
Separate names with a comma.