this is something I wrote for my Creative Writing class that I don't think I've shared on here (sorry if I have though, I honestly can't remember), but one of the girls from that class told me she really liked it yesterday, then quoted a line from it, which was AMAZING to me, because I read it to the class back in February. So cool! 
Truth
I choke on my spit. I don’t mean to, it just happens. I’m more likely to trip going up the stairs than down. I get upset if I feel pressured to wear something I’m not comfortable in, which basically just means that if I’m wearing something tight or short, I’m fuming inwardly. I always want to be awkward in elevators. Whenever I’m in an airport I want to scream and take off running, just to see if I can outrun security. I hate when people flip to the back of a book to see if it “ends well”. At my sickest I hold an inward debate over what position I would play in Quidditch. I do not have a favorite Beatle.

Oh wait yes I do, it’s Paul.

Liberal, I don’t like labels. I believe nothing is ever as cut and dry as it seems. ‘Christian’, no thank you. Christ follower, sure. I mean what I say, except when I don’t. I believe love is love and to argue with that is stupid. In my nightmares I’m strapping one of my close friends to a backboard and trying to remember how to palpitate and do an occlusive dressing. Passion is my thing; judgment is not. 

There’s poisonous mercury inside of it, but you want me to put it in my mouth?

Thermometers freak me out.

I talk in my sleep. I don’t like lying because the truth just sounds better. If I could live anywhere I wouldn’t live here, but I wouldn’t live there either. When I have my own house, I want to use a stolen grocery cart as a planter in the front yard, just so I can be ‘that house’. My skills are so hidden that I can’t even find them. I plan on walking into a burning building one day. I’ve never lost that ambition I had as a child that one day I’ll jump off a swing and fly away. I love redheads.

I want to own a dual counseling office/tattoo parlor.

No, I don’t know how it’ll work out.

At night I drift in and out of wakefulness while listening to poetry videos on YouTube, because sometimes my soul won’t rest ‘till I hear an outpouring of another’s. I’m obsessed with remembering because of that one voice I managed to forget. I think people get lost in themselves without realizing it, but there’s something to be said for knowing yourself.

 



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