54 chapitres Terminé ⚠️ WARNING ⚠️
-Unorganized
-Poorly written
-Cliche
I was 14 when I wrote this and I discourage reading it 😬
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All art is mine. Completed 07/11/2017
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I always used to picture my mate, my true mate.
He would be powerful and incredibly handsome, perfect for me. The perfect person to make me feel complete.
Every day, I was in that sick place, not looking for him, I continued to grow weaker.
Soon, it was hard for me to stand up properly and walk around.
Soon, I was way too thin, starved.
Soon, I was losing all hope.
One mark on the ground, one line, one day.
I never stopped making lines, and soon enough, I had about 30.
They didn't really matter to me. As a new line appeared everyday, I seemed to care a bit less about them.
But hope soon was slowly coming back to me, because of the view outside window.
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I am shit at giving descriptions. But I honestly WOULD NOT recommend this book I was like 13-14 when I wrote it and had no clue what I was doing
