I'm not that smart. I act like I am. But I'm not. I'm not that nice. I look like I mighgt be when you meet me, but that doesn't last too long. I'm opinionated, yet introverted. I'm tragically optimistic, I dream big, think big, probably because I'm so short.
I'm stubborn. I make plenty of mistakes. I'm hard to live with, because I'm so particular. I'm impossible with roommates, the 2 I've had. I cannot envision myself living peacefully with anyone who isnt exactly like me. I am incapable of apology, and the few times I've actualy done it, I've regretted it. I get stung, but don't show it. I'm private, I don't show emotion tto other people. They think I'm dead insde, but I'm very much alive.
I'm sarcastic, which is not a good thing. I'm clever, which is a good thing to some. I'm secretly clingy. As much as i hate spending too much time with people, as much as I push people aside and make them feel unimportant, I miss them like crazy when they're gone, or if they ever decide to be. Friends I have, have had or have lost, still man the world to me. And I always wonder whether something went wrong, or whether we've grown apart with age.
I write not because I think I'm good. I write because it's my only release. It's my way of proving my worth, or proving that I do have feelings.
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