Everyone human being on this planet is a walking talking novel. And no two are ever the same. Every tale is composed of words and sentences and paragraphs. Some of them are perfectly written and easy to read. And others are more complicated and harder to fathom. My story isn’t smooth and easily bound and fastened with leather. It’s gritty and dark something you may have to put down several times or read more than once before you can fully understand. My skin is a blank document. And my experiences are printed on every page for all to see.
Some chapters are perfect and romantic and some sting like a razors cut. Yet every letter, every word, every phrase rattle and churn together to make me who I am.
However, They don’t define me. They just tell the memoir of me.
Read my story and other’s just like it at Hedonism II.