Reblogging because it scares me that almost 8,000 people think it’s necessary to be under 120 lbs.

Upon being damned with the curse of indecisiveness, I have somehow found a hypothetical “loophole”. While I’ve been cursed, I’ve also been blessed with the profound talent as a human to learn to ‘cope’. I’ve become a blend of balance with hints of jealousy and deceit seeing that as I’ve got ups, being a human keeps you reminded of the downs. Since realizing to accept the things I don’t have control over, I’ve taught myself to sort out the things I do. Maybe I will decide what to do and where to go and who I am. Maybe there is something other than god (a mindless idea) that decides for me. Whether there is or isn’t, I’m okay with the unknown. In a way, I like to distort the accidents into future purposeful events. The unknown keeps me on the edge, keeps the adrenaline flowing. In other words, I’ve learned to justify the unknown to be something of a beautiful secret. As stated so well by the most simplistic/interesting novel ever written, “I’ve come to seek a Great Perhaps.”

There are just some things in life that don’t need to be over thought or planned out. For example I’ll never actually see lava in real life. Then again, maybe I will. Probably not though.

This is something that bothers me. I will never be a “cool” girl. I mean, yes, of course, I am cool as like a sequined cucumber, but I will never be cool in that weird, quirky comic book reading sort of way. I’m not afraid of it. There’s nothing wrong with it. I will never be it. I will never be at anybody’s side playing Skyrim or watching the extended versions of LOTR and enjoying it at much as whoever made me watch it is. I don’t have a problem with video games, or comic books, or fantasy, or whatever the new Marvel movie is because it probably looks really good, but I’m more excited about seeing ‘that boy’ and some poem that I read for class because Emily Dickinson is just SO FUCKING GOOD. I like dresses.I like photography and imagining the upcoming summer. I like things that smell nice. I like cooking. I like waking up at 4 to go to the gym. I like hanging out and sharing a couple blunts. I like sitting somewhere in my pile of a bed and being overwhelmed by whatever thing of the world I focused in on today because that is something that I like to do. I have a hard time defining myself through interests. I like a lot of things, but I’m not anything in particular. I’m not geeky, I’m not suave, I’m not overly sophisticated, and dear god I am NOT adorable. I am whatever that makes me. Somewhere between a badass and a pitifully awkward teenager, I could probably find a place to pinpoint myself, but that’s not something I want to do. Tonight I am going to sit here and type in stream of consciousness on my blog for all of the world (maybe 20 people) to read, tomorrow maybe I will listen to somebody talk about some sort of game and be interested even though the only games I was ever good at were Spyro and Tony Hawk. Maybe someone will come along and change my mind about professional sports. Maybe I’ll paint my nails. Maybe I’ll write some horrible poem and laugh at it. Maybe I’ll write something decent. Maybe I’ll be I don’t know, but here’s the point. I am not ashamed of the fact that I am basically average. I AM like all those other girls, because I am one of those other girls. I am hilarious and smart and lazy and happy and I love very passionately and I am learning so many life things and everything about that is okay. Everything about that is very okay.

There are a huge number of people on Facebook that are only on it to advertise more of their excessive need for attention. But then there are some, that don’t just crave ‘likes’ or ‘comments’, rather, they enjoy knowing that even when they’re alone - someone else out there feels the same.