You know, sick stuff.
And yet I still feel as if I could write that book.
Because I have 14,000 things to be happy about.
Life is beautiful.
School is fabulous.
I got a lovely job.
I have amazing friends
{I mean, my mom has to scratch my back when I’m throwing up. But Jessica? What a gal.}
I have two wonderful parents.
I have 3 amazing brothers.
I have a pile of books by my bed.
I have everything I’ll ever need.
Besides a baby.
I still want a baby.
One that looks like this: