In real life these things usually start with me introducing myself and then compulsively muttering about the fact that I don’t have earlobes or that my toes look funny. Occasionally I’ll talk about how sometimes my stomach likes to make noises, which I’m convinced are attempts at conversation on its part because I know I’m not hungry or pregnant with some kind of devil spawn. I think it just wants to talk to me.
And clearly that’s how they begin on the internet as well…
This is me, disguised as a tree, unintentionally bustin’ rhymes, all the time.
On a related note I once wrote a poem about a light bulb, also one about the sexual prowess of my best friend, and another about my desire to be a fish (ingeniously titled “I Wish I Was a Fish”. Eventually someone pointed out the grammatically incorrect title, which I found unnecessary and disheartening).
I’m very scared and confused a lot of the time, but I think I hide it quite well - I usually dispel these negative feelings by dancing which generally puts me in a good mood (I am an excellent dancer). At one point I introduced the 6:27 Dance-Off - a nightly routine in which I would dance for the duration of one song every night at 6:27 pm. Dancing, I think, is one of the greatest things you can do for yourself.
I love making crafts and music and food.
I’ve recently been having strange, outlandish dreams about my future. About pursing all the things I’m afraid to admit I want. And I’m constantly terrified because of this, but I like to think I’m trying, even if it’s only a little bit. Slowly, but surely, I’m teaching myself to be less afraid of failing and I hope I can view my life not as: “empty, bottomless, void of an existence”; but rather: “awesome, wondrous land of possibility”.
Honestly, I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.
And that’s okay.