The Name Game
Hello, my name is: enter cool name here. Frankly, my real name is too weird for the average mortal, so you'll have to make do with your imagination.
In a Nutshell
I'm short. Like, super-creepy-gets-strange-looks-on-the-street short. And I don't mind. I can still fit into hide and seek spots that other teens have long outgrown.
My current best friend moved to Middle of Somewhere, Ohio, when I was in second grade. I sat on my sandwich at lunch that day, and my friends ran to get napkins. She didn't. She was laughing the whole time.
For the record, I loathe people who complain excessively. It's like, we all know your life sucks, we read about it every day on Facebook. If it's broken, fix it. If you can't, accept it and let go.
Beautiful White Blood Cells
I've only ever really wanted something, once, and that's when my brother got leukemia. Call it cliché, but I bargained with the universe that if my brother lived, I wouldn't whine about anything, ever. I've kept that promise. He's alive.
I'm not trendy. I wear essentials and classics, and ditch the rest. You know there's something wrong when you can't tell one teenage girl from the other. Uggs, no. Converse? God, yes.
It's hard to pretend to be friends with someone, when every time you look at that person, all you see is everything you never knew you wanted. It's stupidly beautiful.
My Love Life
I've liked three guys in my life, two of whom turned out to be medically-diagnosed idiots, and the other I'm still working on. I've gone on one date, during which I shared a stick of gum with Blair Lewis. Yeah. Sparks fly.
Pass the Glue Gun
I love who I am, don't get me wrong—I'm just tired of living with the cracks in society. People respect men. I'm not one.
In my eyes, music is indispensable. It possesses this amazing, forceful, liberating quality that steadies me while shaking me to my core. And it doesn't matter if your brother is yelling and grumbling and being a total ten year old boy. Just grab your ear buds and pop those suckers in. Instant peace.
I once took an art class. We were supposed to paint some soul-consuming picture. I didn't know how to accomplish that with stick figures. In the end, I stopped trying to make it beautiful, and just made it matter. My painting was on display for a month.
The Eyes Have It
Eyes are seriously the window to the soul. I love them. When people say they don't care, that they're not upset, their eyes tell a different story. Eyes never learn to lie. I like that.
My first attempt at hint fiction... I sincerely hope you enjoyed it-and know that reviewing gives you good karma. ;D