It is too perfect here. The houses line up in neat little rows with neat little lawns and neat little children. Fancy cars roar down the pristine streets. I can't be here, I don't belong here. I fear touching the beautiful flowers that line the well-kept gardens because my touch will ruin them. I feel dirty, as if I will sully the streets simply by stepping on them. I fear I will ruin the clean air simply by breathing, and I fear I will ruin the children simply by speaking.
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Clinging to Unreachable Stars
RomanceA memoir that centers on the idea of not only living through the seasons of love and life but the self-growth and exploration that comes with change. The book tells the tales of love, heartbreak, despondency and maturation over the course of 5 years...
