The Vessel / Sierra Ehrman

When you were little, your mom told you that you could be anything in the world that you wanted to be. And you took her literally. You jumped off of houses and buildings in hopes that you could beat gravity at its own game. You knew the hospital very well. Your dad was never around to help raise you. You used to get in trouble in grade school for using swear words when you didn't even know what they meant. When you were 16, your girlfriend dumped you for the strong, popular jock at school. You are most afraid of not finding someone to share in the simple joys of life with you, that you will be alone for the rest of your life. You find the little things, like plastic bags being tossed around by the wind and the first drop of rain to hit your nose before it pours, beautiful in their own way. Raisin and peanut butter pie, your invention, is your favorite thing to eat, and you hate it when people are afraid to say no.