No exaggeration.
Two weeks ago, my biggest crisis was finding the perfect shoes to match the emerald green dress hanging on my closet door.
I had screenshots saved, makeup tutorials bookmarked, and an entire Pinterest board dedicated to my senior prom.
Now, that dress looked like a cruel joke.
Instead of worrying about photos and corsages, I was trying to process the words « Stage 3. »
Those words had been echoing in my head nonstop since the doctor said them.
Stage 3.
Aggressive.
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