Anatomy
I am nineteen years of age.
I really, really like hugs.
I become emotional upon finishing a book.
I correct people’s grammar.
I accept the fact that I’m kind of a bitch.
I read classical literature that has been critically acclaimed.
I am a big nerd.
I am a Spartan.
I eat too much, I eat too little.
I have low self esteem.
I have DD’s and hate them.
I like traveling.
I am obnoxious.
I am needy.
I am jealous.
I struggle with religion.
I want to impress you. I want to be his.
I really want to rebel against something, against everything.
I have opinions that I won’t share with you.
I like paddle-boats and trampolines.
I find pleasure in mundane things.
I wish I were Audrey Hepburn.
I won’t talk about my parents cancer, but want you to ask sometimes.
I dig musicals.
I like supernatural things because they’re interesting.
I wish I led a more fascinating and truthful existence.
I don’t take enough pictures.
I like my life, on most occasions.
I love, I laugh, I cry, I scream.
I pwn at Mario Kart.
I am me.
Who are you?
