many people in my Facebook dash have been commenting “ur so pretty” and other such niceties on a picture of this girl who seems to be breast feeding a puppy.
so there’s that.
one of the nicest things in the world is just standing in the shower while all the water punches you in the face with its steam and greatness. it adds a lot to the electric bill but also your own emotional welfare, so it all evens out in the end.
precollege is just like college except without any grades and you only have one class and you get coffee and after 2 weeks there is a party and then your parents come pick you up.
also my teacher is the coolest person. she reminds me of what a granola bar would be like if a granola bar also wrote mind-blowing poetry.
so maybe i should spend the rest of my life in precollege? it seems to be well-tailored to all my interests (coffee, no grades, writing, reading, sitting on peoples beds and chilling, being awesome, telling stories, et al.)
every time i see a baby or small child i have to resist the urge to stuff it in my backpack or just steal it and take it home with me and call it my own. nobody understands this and it is widely regarded by spectators as the weirdest urge that anyone under the age of thirty has ever had, ever.
but little kids are great and i want one.
although i probably wouldn’t believe that if i were responsible for a tiny person full time. i don’t want to be covered in spit up and glue and macaroni noodles and my own tears. i like sleeping and dicking around and spending money on books and smoothies i don’t need.
i made a friend who wears vintage clothes and lives in Florida. she writes crisp little poems and she said i can stay with her if i ever come to orlando. this means potential trips to disney just got a whole lot cheaper. also, she is great and today she persuaded me to buy a t-shirt that says “PIRHANAS ARE BAD NEWS.”
I’m so glad i have made this shirt a part of my wardrobe. in fact i do not know how i got by before.
i bought 1 dollar nail polish at urban outfitters. the color is called “midnight.” i painted myself while watching pretty little liars. a weird face mask crustified on my face. i felt precisely like the stereotypical teenaged older sister that you would see on a cartoon network show. you know, the one the protagonist finds with cucumbers on her eyes and curlers in her hair and screams “IT IS AN ALIEN.”
which I’m okay with for the time being. if you can’t embrace being an alien at seventeen, then when can you, really?