My name's Michelle Tran. I like my once, now lost name, Christa. No one really calls me that besides my godmother, though.
I like to punctuate everyday conversation avec de coups de mots francais.
I dislike citrus fruit peels and fibre (especially from oranges), shrill noises and feet.
Edit: I'm okay with citrus, shrill noises, and feet in small doses now.
Forget stardust—you are iron. Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged?