The chosen one

I have red hair.

It’s well known that women change their hair when there’s something very wrong. Did you know that?
Emotional trauma they call it.

I just wanted red hair but actually I guess I feel bad too. Full of regret. I’m too proud to try and sort it out, I tried, but I probably went too far.
People I care about get the worst of me as well as the best. I will show you the real me, its not always nice. I hate upsetting people yet I seem to do it all the time.
In America I had no worries but now I’m back everything I escaped is in my face again.

On Monday I have my blood test for the BRCA gene. It will take 6 weeks for the results. The reason I don’t know my family history is because I was adopted. I do know my mother and my nan and they didn’t have breast cancer. I don’t know my father. I imagine i inherited all the shit genes from him though haha.

I haven’t mentioned this before because I suppose I prefer to keep it quiet, but I guess people might think my adoptive mother and my cancers were linked but now you know. I always joke I’m special because I was chosen. Picked out of so many kids.

I have certainly not lead a sheltered life..


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