Well, my name is Chance, Chance Abbott.
I know, Chance is a boys name. But I didn't choose my name, nor did I choose to be named after the thing that life never gave me.
I'm a 23 year old woman that gets up everyday to make it to my job by 10am.
I work at that unassuming bookstore on the corner of somewhere in Jersey and somewhere else in Jersey. Living in New Jersey is great, if this is where you were born. If you were born here, there's no getting out, you might leave for a year or so, but you'll always wake up one morning and say: "well shit, guess I'll move back to New Jersey."
I suppose I've come off wrong, I do love my job. It's quiet, peaceful, and leaves me to my thoughts, which might be a weakness of mine, considering I've sat on my small porch to my small apartment, alone, smoking my morning cigarette, telling myself my name and occupation all while burning through my damn cigarette. Maybe my life's gotten too quiet, maybe I don't go out enough, maybe I feel myself getting older and feel I've never done anything quite interesting, or maybe even my depression is slowly creeping back into my personality. Whatever it is, I can think about it at work, it's not like it isn't quiet enough.
I wash my face and run my wet hands through my wavy, brown, shoulder length hair. Which is enough to make it look messy yet presentable. Slip on jeans, converse, and a comfortable and baggy slightly ripped black shirt that has a faded saying of some kind on it.
Apply a bit of eyeliner, grab my travel mug of chai tea, and I'm in the car by 9:45am.
Just the usual, reliable job I do for most of the 28,30 or 31 days every month.
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Book Wørm (Frank Iero AU)
Fanfiction(Warning: this story WILL contain graphic language, violence, drug use, and sexual situations, please don't read if you aren't prepared for that. also, I am in no way glorifying mental illnesses or traumatic life events, but I wanted a story with n...
