The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley

deceptively simple and simply brilliant

“Food is the enemy, every meal a war, and the battlefield is my ass.”

And she’s right. But it doesn’t change anything. Words never do.

Chaos is an excuse for people who don’t have the patience to see the patterns.

Steven hangs back. When Emma’s out of earshot,

When boys wake up screaming in the night, it’s because they know that, one day, they’ll have to grow into men who wear suits and spend their days doing boring things that cause them to rot from within, so their skin withers and blackens and cracks, leaking out their juices until they finally lie decaying and putrid, forgotten by a world that deemed them unworthy of remembering

sun-kissed skin