I lived for 186 days in the 80s, but I definitely don’t dance and hate fluro.
My parents lasted long enough to have two children, one miscarriage, and a lot of one-sided regret.
The next relationship produced three more kids, a vasectomy and a decade and a half of bruises.
I don’t trust that I haven’t inherited the addictive gene from my family, so I don’t drink anymore, despite wanting to most days.
I equally love and hate being the eldest sibling, and often feel like I’ve failed each and every one.
I have more freckles than stars in the sky – a sepia milky way everywhere but my stomach, which never sees the light of day.
My head is topped with auburn hair that bleaches orange in summer, and curls in knots no brush can ever truly untangle.
I see through eyes that transition from grey to blue like the changing weather, and their chance of rain is just as changeable.
I have two wonderful friends who I can only handle in short stints, and often wonder if they feel the same way about me.
I fall in love too easily, with long hair, tears and darkness.
My first boyfriend broke my heart, which was mended by my current boyfriend, who then completely tore it out.
I was once diagnosed with chronic depression, because I don’t think ‘chronic discontent’ featured in the DSM yet.
I chose social work as a career because I value other people’s lives more than I do my own – it crushes and reinforces my soul every day.
I wish I didn’t love my job so I could quit, pack my bags and live out of my car along the coast for the rest of my life.
I watched Dead Poets Society, and knew I would one day be a teacher.
I belong near the ocean, and feel like I’m drowning if I’m dry for too long.
I can’t explain why I feel more powerful and alive under a full moon, but assume in another life I may have been a witch.
I currently have 52 houseplants inside, not including the ivy creeping in through the window frames and floorboards, which I can’t bring myself to pull out.
There are probably 5 times as many plants outside, and I have very little idea how to keep them all alive.
I would do nothing but read and write and surf and skate all day, every day if I could.
I wrote a book that no one will probably ever read, because I’m a self conscious, cowardly perfectionist.
I allow people I hate to steal away everything I love, which makes me hate them (and myself) even more.
I explicitly like things others I know don’t so that I don’t have to share, and immediately lose interest when they do.
I prefer to be on my own, or at least that’s what I tell myself.