I was immediately both curious and excited about the contents of this bottle. It was sleek, slender, and gorgeous. The tiny beads of condensation teased and trickled their way down the neck of the bottle which held pink and bubbly liquid. The label looked classy. In a bold, shadowy, sexy font it read: André. Very classy indeed.
When you only give people tiny pieces of your life—bit by selective bit—there’s bound to be skepticism and the ever lingering thought, “Did I really know this person at all?” And I have to ask, “Does anybody really know…anyone?”
We started iron infusion treatments that lasted for two and a half weeks. I got poked, I got iron, I got breakfast, I got pampered. It was like a fucked up spa situation taking place in some parallel, sci-fi universe. It was very Brave New World…
It takes you being who you are at your core, seeing a need somewhere in this world that’s grossly overlooked and filling it to the brim. Find some way, using your talent for being the best you that you can be, to fill the world with what you have to offer.
BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS? How does an ex-J-Dub—one who wrote and just published a memoir detailing her own experiences as a born-in JW—respond to needing one of those?
The Governing Body—controlling millions of Jehovah’s Witnesses—have claimed the lives of approximately 900 people a year. Nine hundred men, women and children. Nine. Hundred. Per. Year.