I was born with glass bones and paper skin, every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. At night I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep, the only way I've been able to support myself is by selling chocolate bars, and blogging.
"i wish i was born in the 90s" says the young girl. suddenly, her surroundings change- french flags fly above and around her, crowds are cheering. it is france, 1793. the king is dead. long live the revolution.