Teach Me How to Love You
Amyceedon't tell mom noahooops noah is gone hazelnoah from the next stepyou barely even dance with me
I froze, staring.
I had earned money. Real money. There were reader tips, little notes attached to them, people thanking me, telling me what my words had done for them. There was a message about a brand wanting to partner with me.
I just stared at my phone, reading it over and over, trying to take in what was happening.
Something I started on a whim was paying me.
The money wasn't the shocking part. It was that my little outlet, the thing I did to survive my own head, had turned into this. It was an amazing thing to realize.