- Reads 31
- Votes 2
- Parts 2
- Time 12m
Ongoing, First published Jan 31, 2016
It only took me eight minutes to screw up my life. How do I know? Let's just say, I have a time complex. My mother, being her airhead self, always insisted that I ought to see a therapist, but that kind of 'kettle calling tea pot black' considering she's two steps away from being an alcoholic. I digress. It happened one summer, those eight minutes, so that's where I shall begin my story, the summer before my senior year.All Rights Reserved
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