My Achilles Heel
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I learned a long time ago not to let things get to me.
Things meaning people.
People meaning Jason Richards.
Sometimes I wonder if every human being created has been given that one person who might as well be the death of them. the strongest person in the world having that one person who could break them own with a single sentence.
A weakness.
Like how that one guy had that spot on his heel or something?
That kind of weak spot.
Jason Richards is my weak spot. At six-foot something to my five-foot-six frame.
Jason Richard scared me to death. But did I let him see that?
*scoff*
Heavens no.
What kind of stereotypical “bad-girl-rebel” would I be if I did?
Well, you see, the thing is, I never use to be like this. I was the quiet, goody-two-shoes with glasses and a retainer. Whoever said one summer changes a person more than a lifetime, was right.
One summer at my Aunt Katie’s house in Puerto Rico was the biggest change of my life.
One summer and it was bye-bye retainer, hello contacts! I grew out my shoulder-length dirty blond hair, got some sun on my all too pale skin, and just straight up grew up. I was no longer the awkward, in-between sizes, sixteen year old junior.
And now?
Well I’m back babes.
And Holy Bullsparkles....
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