❝ I'm not evil, I just do bad things. ❞
When blessed with luck, you must ask yourself: would you stay on the right side of the law?
[ONGOING]
marvel / au (briefly civil war)
started → july 2019 / finished →
plot credit @tinkertaydust
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Dear Diary,
It's half four in the afternoon. I'm hungover, I've only just woken up, and really need to barf, but all I could think of was this stupid, tattered journal and how much I wanted to spill my feelings into it.
I only have a month left before it happens. It's strange, I can almost feel it in my body, the only way I can describe it is when you are about to get sick, and just know you're about to get sick before it even happens. Only, I do know it's going to happen. I can't even bring myself to say what it is, that's how fucked this is. I've known about it since before I understood what knowledge was, and only now am I struggling to talk about it. It, it, it, it, it. Fuck me, I thought I was at peace with it, I thought it would be easy to settle with. I'm so fucked, I'm so fucked, I'm so fucked, I'm so fu
No, this is getting soppy. I'm rambling, and about what? Fuck all, that's what. Right, let me start again. Let me sort my fucking head out.
Dear Diary, take two,
My name is Harper Grace Rowan. I am twenty nine years old, and will be thirty on June 24th, 2016. Like my mother, and her mother before her, and so many mothers before, I have red hair and unnaturally lucky tendencies. My mother died when I was ten, on her thirtieth birthday. I have never broken a bone, never lost a card game, and have never bought an unripe avocado.
My name is Harper Grace Rowan, and I am going to die in thirty one days. My only wish is that I knew how.
