I started writing a self portrait of myself a while ago, as a way to tell a story about myself while still being quite vague. But decided to actually put it somewhere. And posting on the internet is as permanent as you can get nowadays.
The internet isn't written in pencil...it's written in ink.
The internet isn't written in pencil...it's written in ink.
She’s the girl who looks like all the others, until you look closer. Monochromatic eyes and hair, unless you really stare. Mermaid hair that covers her chest, and the bangs she just cannot seem to grow out. She has a nose that looks like she collided with a wall, and cheeks that puff up when she smiles, like a chipmunk. Her eyebrows are thick and it drives her crazy. She doesn’t wear much makeup, yet as long lashes, that are blonde at the tips. She dresses the way she wants to, and stopped paying attention to what people thought of what she is wearing years ago.
She is described as a “hipster” or “indie”, and she’s sort of just accepted the title. If it were up to her, she would have no label, and be an enigma. She wants to keep changing and not be placed in one category. But if she must, hippie is preferred. At least then, she can hug trees.
She can’t sing, but she pretends she can. She loves boys who can sing, and melts when one sings, even if they don’t particularly notice. She loves music for the sake of music. She has no “favorite band” or artist, or even genre. She believes that music is there for us to dance to. She likes to dance, even though she is terribly uncoordinated. If she hears music, she will dance. It doesn’t look like much, but that’s okay. She was never one for appearances. Always tripping over her own feet, it’s hard to find her without a bruise SOMEWHERE. She is always getting hurt, but she doesn’t really mind. As long as she is healthy, a sprain now and then won’t really do her any harm.
She has always lived in books, they’re not just an “escape”. Something about another world, even just someone else’s, fascinates her. She’ll read anything and everything. She gobbles it up. She loves film for the same reason. But don’t mistake her for a pretentious film geek because she likes to use the word film. She loves movies for movies, for their entertainment value and how they seem to brighten up lives.
She talks too much, and usually sprouting out facts that you don’t care about. She dances when she wants to and doesn’t take no for an answer. She jumps from topic to topic and does not like to be bored. She hates silence, and will fill it with talk, even if that makes the situation more awkward. Her favorite movies don’t make any sense, but that’s alright with her. She likes to laugh more than anything, and finds everything hysterical.
She is fiercely independent, she really doesn’t need company to survive. Her friends and family are her life, but she is very content being on her own. She lives inside her mind, which could drive a person crazy, but it just gives her an excuse to ramble on when no one else will listen.
She is allergic to alcohol, and it’s harder than it sounds. It’s difficult to explain and its hard to justify it sometimes. She knows that many people don’t believe her, and they don’t have to. She just wishes they would butt out of something they don’t understand. She gets “contact drunk” and life is more fun that way. She isn’t “normal”, but on the bright side, she is never ever boring.
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