While I'm on the topic, I want to thank each and every one of my readers for the follows, the shares, the tweets and the comments. The feedback I received meant more than you can imagine, and I hold that post, and everyone who took part in its journey, close to my heart.
Most of you know, or will soon know, that I grew up a highly anxious child. No amount of reassurance convinced me that I would live to see 21, and I was pretty sure that if I did, I would: go blind and/or deaf, go retarded (read it before you judge me, please), catch on fire, and never get into a good college. Failing that, I was certain that I would not be Raptured, and would instead be consigned to the fiery flames of Hell.
Without furthur ado, I give you:
My life. In pictures.
Age 6. I wake up blind.
Age 8. For some unknown reason, my mother then decides to take me to the Sears' Tower. It catches on fire and I die.
Age 9. My parents take me to see the "death" races. I die a horrible death.
Age 9. I call Van a shitass in 3rd grade. Mrs. Murphy puts the incident on my permanent record and I never get into a good college.
The Rapture comes and I'm left behind.
