I like pretending I’m deep and thoughtful. I listen to music that gets down into my soul and fascinates me with unique analogies and unusual phrases. I love movies that make me think. I read books. I am in love with words. How they connect and how they can paint pictures and inspire emotions. I enjoy writing short posts about deep things and drawing them into moral points.

But I am shallow too. I love new clothes. I love feeling pretty. I love people telling me. I love that moment when I have something new and I put it on for the first time and I look at the girl staring back at me through the mirror…and I like her. That feeling is too rare.

I like eating. All the time. Junk food especially. Chocolate is my weakness. I feel bad after and while it is still melting in my mouth, feeling the lump of my stomach. But I love it anyway and keep stealing bites when I can.

I love the weather. I love how a sunset or sunrise makes me feel. And how I want to capture it perfectly so I can pull it out and stare at it when I want to. I love how a warm day at the edge of spring makes my skin feel alive and makes me want to soak it all up. I love how rainy days make me thoughtful. I love those days when I just have to go outside and then just stand there in awe of how beautiful it is.

I love hugs. I need them a lot. Sometimes when I feel really bad, I consider demanding them of strangers. But I never do. I know they would be meaningless. So I just steel myself and wish for them.

I love being around the people I love. The people who excite me. I feel like an annoyance to all of them so I try not to start conversations with them, but I follow them around all the same. I love having friends. It’s a rare joy.

I am shallow and deep. Happy and sad. Mostly I’m a mess. Mostly I don’t like myself. But I am me.

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