Gypsy Origins by Kristy Cunning

I’m like a snowball rolling downhill.
That’s the first thing that pops into my mind when I try to explain my life. I don’t know exactly ‘what’ I am, but I do know who I am.
At least…I did.
Sometimes life sends things your way that upend everything you thought you knew, and then slings you in another direction without any sort of harness or warning.
Sometimes it drops someone like me off in the path of four wildly different monsters, who all used to be best friends, but now sort of hate each other and compete over absolutely everything, including…me.
Life would be easier if I wasn’t already attached to those four monsters, but they occasionally let their guard down around me, and I get a glimpse of what has to stay hidden under all those snowball layers, since they already rolled downhill a long time ago.
I’m tired of losing people I care about. I’m tired of searching aimlessly for answers. I’m tired of not having the right questions to ask.
I’m really tired of feeling like my vagina is cursed, but that’s obviously lower on the list of priorities. But in my vagina’s defense, it may not do tricks, but I keep it pretty. It shouldn’t keep scaring men/monsters off so easily, and it’s honestly starting to make me feel a little insecure.
Anyway, I’m finally closer than ever to having all the answers. So long as no new secrets emerge.