I am unique.

Lacking logic, full of belief.

I am small.

Holding tight, hands to the wall.

I am bright.

Burning angles, full of light.

I am brave.

Testing freedom, can’t be saved.

I am awake.

What once was, now at stake.

I am free.

Inherent flaws, I am just me.

Tall, handsome, intelligent and stupid. Calm yet anxious. Loving, determined, boring.

Unsure of the future, unsure of the past.

Fast - a sprinter!

Easily led by my emotions.

Unaware. Reckless sometimes. But wise.

Kind hearted and idealistic.

Maybe.

Or maybe a demon in disguise.

As you may know, my husband and son are adventurous sorts; daredevils whom I send off with kisses and I love you’s every time they leave the house, just in case.

Don’t get me wrong. I love challenges. I give 100% at everything I do. I love doing things well. I just don’t put my life in danger (except perhaps when doing 75 mph in a 55 mph speed zone). I am the type to both create and seek that which is safe and secure, warm and comfortable. I crave peace, within and without and work hard to achieve it. Of course, sometimes it is only possible by breathing. Deeply.

I smile a lot. No, I am not always happy, but I see no reason to impose my woes on the world. Plus, I feel better when I smile, if only because often, people will smile back, and sometimes will thank me for smiling because so few people do. Adults, that is. Most children and babies are wonderful mood changers. It’s a sad day when I can’t make a baby smile. I have found smiling makes others more comfortable (or wary wondering why the heck I am smiling when there is nothing to smile about, don’t you know the world is going to hell in a handbasket?) and in the face of a smile, they are more likely to not immediately step back in fear or disgust - not for anything I've done, simply based on something I cannot change.

I love sunrises and sunsets, trekking through the woods, staring at puffy clouds in a blue sky or stars on a clear night. I start listening to music first thing in the morning and it colors my day till I get ready for bed. I may start the day with Blake Shelton and end with Rachmaninoff – all depends on the mood.

Nothing makes me happier than when my loved ones are happy doing what they love.

A good day is when I help someone, whether by a hug, a deed or with words of encouragement.

It gladdens my heart that people who know me, yet not each other, coincide in calling me Sunshine.

My goal is to keep that fire burning for those in my orbit…

I am a people pleaser

A drunk guy teaser

A hardworking,

Anything to avoid a conflict

Appeaser.

I am a little bit crazy

Saturday nights hazy

Sunday mornings lazy,

Hit the gym on the daily.

Sometimes I’m really sad

Sometimes I’m somewhat glad

But always, in demand.

Try to tame me – I’ll be damned.

I am a secret keeper

Adventure seeker

A vivid dreamer

Always tellin him to ‘go deeper’

Sometimes I’m a mess

Sometimes I’m careless

Reckless,

Rebellious,

Restless,

Jealous.

All these flaws and imperfections,

I am a work in progress, not perfection.

You’d think I care. Maybe I do. Perhaps I don’t.

You’d think my writing reflects my cheerful demeanor--I’d think that, too. But hey, I guess we all have our secrets, our dark corners. We all worry and fret--is it narcisstic to think I do it more than other people? Yes? Okay. I shall purge the thought from my head.

You know those annoying girls who can get obnoxious when they want attention?

Yeah, I’m one of them. I wish I wasn’t, and I’m trying to get better, but the swing into loud and annoying is difficult to resist.

People say I’m a nice person. Which, I guess, is nice. But it’s a bland, isn’t it? I try to overcome the bland part of “nice” by unleashing my dorky self.

After all, it’s pretty easy to become less bland if you act as if you’re wearing polka-dots and stripes.

I don’t wear polka-dots or stripes. Usually it’s jeans, jeans, jeans, and more jeans. I do wear shirts, too, but I doubt you’re interested in me describing my style. Tank tops? Yep. Tee shirts? Yep. Logos of fandoms? Occasionally.

I used to be a book-eater. Not a book worm, a book-eater (which, I suppose, is practically the same thing ...) I used to devour stories in days. I had a rule that I could only bring home 300+ page books because anything shorter I’d finish in a single day and I couldn’t bring that many books home from the library for a week. My arms were too small and the bag quickly became too heavy.

Nowadays, I find time only to study, chat online, and write. Right now, I’m taking precious studying time to write this because I’m a procrastinator who hates math and guess what I have to do? I could just do something else, but I’m a creature of schedules and if I can’t do it at its proper time then why bother doing it at all?

Of course, that’s the procrastinator speaking. Logically, if I want to improve my SAT scores, I’d study from dawn to dusk, but I can barely manage getting up at 8:00. Which is probably because I can barely manage getting to bed before 12:30 A.M. What can I say? I’m a nocturnal creature born in a diurnal body. The stars and moon have always been more fascinating than the sun.

I used to stay up until 3:00 in the morning to finish rereading Harry Potter. I wish I could do that, still. Reading was such a wonderful escape. Now, I’ve become picky. I can’t turn my writing brain off, which I guess is fine, but it means I enjoy reading less which means I’m not studying my own academic.

Academics. Shit.

I turned eighteen in July. Which, FYI, is mildly terrifying for multiple reasons. I’m beginning to pull it together. I have a game plan. Executing the plan is easier said than done, but it’s getting there.

College seems like such a strange, distant thing. I’ve never sat at a public school desk except for my first SAT. I’m homeschooled, always have been. I live out in the middle of freaking nowhere. I still don’t have my driving license and really only just started practicing driving. Because, where I live, there are just few enough people that the people who are here think they can drive crazy in places that would optimally be my driving practice areas. Except, you know, the crazy drivers are there.

Oh, I suppose you non-traditional schoolers (did you know, back in the day there were no public schools and parents actually had to do the work of being with their kid and teaching them?) you want to ask some pretty stupid questions.

What grade am I?

Do you like it?

Would you rather do public schooling?

And, the big question: how do you *[gasp]* socialize?

A warning: I’m in a pretty sour mood at the moment (writing about such serious topics and procrastinating does that to me--yes, I’m a masochist), so my insincere apologies if I insult you.

-Grades were created specifically for public school because they have big classes. They weren’t made for homeschooling and classes of (at most) three, so why would I use that system?

-Of course I like it, I’m not forced to spend time with idiots and hormone-fueled teenagers.

-If you’re asking this question, you seriously need to do some retrospection.

My apologies to the people who are reading this to see if I’m a good contestant; I started to ramble. My only defense is that the best way to know me is if I let you know some of the things that tick me off.

I should end with a conclusive note. A wise sentence to tie this all together. As a reader, I’d appreciate it. I mean, you’d think I care. Maybe I do.

But perhaps I don’t.

they are right. they are so

terribly right. all the time.

they are sick of getting emails

while they write poetry on Prose.

they are the wild pokemon ditto

in a forest of pidgeys. they have

wisdom of 11 signs before them

and yet they chose to cry

over nothing. but to them,

nothing is everything.

they swim in gay emotions

and try to drown, but they

float too well. they are all over

the place yet they know

what they need. they are unsure

of what they don't need, however.

they tread amongst the stars, noticing

each one before it dies

and they never forget.

Words leave me in a hurry most times. And when I later think about 3 seconds later I really wonder what I said was accurate enough to be meaningful to my hearing devices and someone else hearing device. Also I stand higher than things at eye level. I'm that first-person video game player type of view I'm literally staring at myself in these situations like one kind of out-of-body experience. My book and movie genre is steamy romantic and action-packed thriller-horror erotic play hard to get type genres. Fifty shades is my life fantasy; she has everything I desire in a nutshell. My fave movie is “Where hands touch” just decided! Music man there is not enough words to explain all the music I love let's just say every genre fave is alternative and depressing rock music that really gets deeply embedded in those fibers of your cochlea where the hearing devices pick things up! And give the heartstrings a nice tug from time to time — anything I mean ANYTHING makes me giggle and laugh hysterically. I resemble the color of a jar of peanut butter. Dry humor is my fave kind of humor. “The office.” def Pam and Michael mixed into one person. I care for two offspring alone currently manless. And the things that hold this phone to tell you this are polished sparkle pink :) hope this was an excellent description of myself lol

I divided in two

Hatred for humanity and it’s woes,

Love for humanity and it’s heights.

Dedicated to passion’s whims,

Enslaved by apathy’s grasp.

Wanting men to rise by the stepping stones of life,

Wanting the ruin of all civilization and time.

Wanting high achievement and a greater life,

Content with a smaller gains and lesser time.

I do not know what I want and what I fully am

But I know I am divided in two.