Prologue
In every mirror I look in all I see is someone I only half know, like I am standing in a fun house at the fair, every aspect of my face distorted but still the essence is there. When I type I can feel my mind untangling as the words on the screen became my intact self. Most things I have ever written I ended up deleting or ripping up dramatically before tossing it into the trash. I can only image what the constant ticking of the keyboard could have morphed into by now if I never hit 'delete'. I am 31 years old and made up completely of paper basketballs. All the pages I thought needed to be tossed, turns out to be essential chapters of what is looking to be quite the heroic/comedic tale.
To all the selves I tossed away, I love you. (Especially the self that ate entire baguettes in one sitting while watching Grey's Anatomy-you were a personal favorite)
~Mia
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