I suck it up and stand, knowing I had to do that. I head to the sink and wash it out, the blood practically making me faint. I fall and bring a hand to my forehead, crying.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
I sense her emotions and head back, slipping my jacket and shoes off but finding her still in the bathroom. Worried, I sit on the bed and cross my arms.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return. — Genesis 3:19