Lots of you ask about my writing. Like my real, actually-geared-toward-publication-aka-not-a-spoutoff-or-blog writing. Well, here's your golden opportunity.

Because I'm participating in the Utah Children's Writers 30 Days, 30 Stories Extravaganza. And today just so happens to be my day.

So this is essentially a PB manuscript (500 words) that's geared for audiences 5-8 years old.

Without further adieu, enjoy a snippet of the brilliance that is yours truly. Go have a read.

When you have no friends within a 200mile radius.

I missed a birthday.

*I* missed a BIRTHDAY!

Even worse, it was one of my missionaries. Agh. I have NEVER missed a missionary birthday, ever.

My only defense is that somehow (also unthinkable) it wasn't on my Google Calendar.

Being less than perfect is so anti-progessive.

PS, I hate rich people.

...when I wake up in the morning (or at 5pm from a "nap"), I stretch and gulp in huge breaths of hope, feeling for precious seconds of semi-awareness that it never happened.

Sometimes I dream that I'm completely fine. Able to run, and jump, and play like I want. That I'm not still healing. That I don't have physical therapy. And that my life has not turned into what feels like one big nuclear meltdown.

Sometimes I wish that I didn't have a humongous scar down both sides of my leg which people tell me I should get made into a killer snake tattoo.

But then, I always come back to face TRUTH. Bitter, bone-crushing truth. I can't run. I can't jump. I can't play. I can barely walk. And I'm permanently defaced.

* * *

My mom railed on me today about not keeping up on my home exercises from therapy and again nagged me about my claims to "a fiercely independent spirit" that she has yet to see. I finally painted it clearly to her that there's no way for that to exist here. Because I live with parents who assert dominance, demand respect, and have a problem when I try to display my way, and it conflicts with or bashes against theirs.

I want to leave, to go elsewhere, to be anywhere but this hole that feels like I'm falling forever into nothing but darkness.

My room is a shambles. I just picked it up like two days ago. And again it's absolutely trashed. Like can't-see-the-floor-trashed. For anyone who knows me and my sense of order and cleanliness, you'll understand how telling this is.

I'm ready for some light. And hope. That isn't dreamt.

Yes indeedy folks.

I had therapy today. And I drove meself :) (Mom came too, but in a separate car cuz she was late from taking my sis to the doc).

When we got in there, the lady measured and babbled... and stretched! OW!

It was declared that I have extraordinary better-than-yours ankles. Well, now only one. Apparently normal people have like 10-15 degrees of dorsiflexion (bending your toes from neutral up). Well, your truly has 40. Normal people have like 40-45 degrees of plantarflexion (bending your toes from neutral down). Yours truly can do 70! BOOM BABY! I have hella flexible ankle. :P Because the right one is messed up and swollen and numb...still. Well, on that one I can do 10 dorsiflexion, which therapistlady said was incredible. :) Uber win.

Only there's a catch. She also measured my hamstring flexibility. C- for sure. My hamstrings don't stretch or flex and they are super tight and super hurt. So of course she made me stretch them extra. Gah. And now I have to stretch them 6x a day for 20 seconds - each leg. Lamesauce^5. But my mom has wickedly tight hamstrings too, so I vote it's genetic. She has to help me with my ankle strengthening exercises anyway, so she's going to stretch her hamstrings too and we can super suffer together!

In other news, my limp is almost gone. And today I hopped 3 times! And then got in trouble with the therapist who says I shouldn't be jumping at all until I can walk. GAH.

After an hour of moving and stretching and my ankle repeatedly popping...igh...she hooked my ankle and foot up to an electric ice bath! O.o I know, right?! Basically it's 4 electric nodes that electrically massage your skin wrapped with an ice pack. Somehow the two don't combine to kill me. Best part was remember that my ankle (so far) is permanently numb? Well she had to crank the juice all the way to 25 before I even felt anything, and then after 10 seconds I couldn't feel it again. So she came back and moved it up to 30, but wouldn't go any higher. She said it was doing it's job even if I couldn't feel it. Mergah.

I had electroshock therapy :P My leg is now swollen to twice the size of the unhurt one. It hasn't been this plump since, I dunno, I got hit by a car?


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