The Thrilling Saga.
No, and not the angsty Stephanie Meyer four piece novella you were hoping for. There will be no moody vampires or brooding werewolves here, but I do have one thing in common with Edward: we’re both seventeen years old. And not unlike Edward, I also feel like I’ve been seventeen for, presumably, forever.
Seventeen’s a rough age, and coupled with the current sentencing to the the borders of painfully tiny, suburban Connecticut, the task of making myself and my life sound snazzy and witty enough for an entire designated page such as this one is proving to be more and more daunting.
Even with an ingrained love for writing, a point ever so nicely proven by the thousands of leaky pens leaving infuriating inkstains on a sadly vast collection of beloved handbags and treasured clothing items, I still struggle with writing a coherent two paragraphs about myself. It’s funny. Throw two different washes of denim jeans in front of me and I could, if forced, write a compelling compare and contrast essay on the merits and demerits of each, single spaced and complete with MLA citations. Ask me to write an “about me” page about my own life and well, I’m drawing a blank.
As is customary in the world of fashion, we’ll start with the basics.