Unashamedly

I talk with my hands. Unless I’m standing, then I talk with my feet, too. When I’m silent, I talk with my face.

I hate sporks. Hate ‘em.

I put my foot in my mouth approximately once every two seconds. Probably will by the time I’m done reading this paper.

I sing badly on purpose.

            I recycle. I judge people who don’t recycle.

I make new friends all the time, whether they like it or not.

I get tickled by words.

I regularly admire girls’ hair.

I forget things everywhere I go.

I say bad words. A lot of bad words. I don’t feel guilty for saying bad words because I think that the worst things people say don’t need to be bleeped on television.

I smile at strangers. I smile more at cute strangers.

I drive, poorly. I don’t know my left from right. Maybe that’s why.

I love stupid jokes. The stupider, the better.

I eat peanut butter out of the jar.

I hate going shopping.

I start a sentence and forget what I’m talking about halfway through.

I dance like nobody’s watching when people are. I dance like people are watching when no one is.

I swing at strikes. Sometimes I swing at balls.

I say that I don’t cry easily, but I kinda do.

I sass mercilessly. I might be more sarcastic than I should be. See if I care.

I correct people’s grammar in my brain. And sometimes out loud.

I reread old text messages. Sometimes I read them when I need to feel angry. Sometimes I read them when I need to feel better. Sometimes I read them when I just need to feel something.

I love my mom. I love when people tell me I’m just like my mom.

I put girls on base. I strike girls out. Sometimes before I strike a girl out I look directly into her soul and try to give her the craziest eyeballs one could ever imagine, just for fun.

I’m scared of vomit. And masks. And mannequins. And children.

I talk to strangers.

I get overwhelmed.

I save old cards.

I flirt shamelessly.

I feel like a million bucks on my birthday.

I sleep. Wish I could sleep more. Also wish I could sleep less.

When I’m at home, I stare at myself in the mirror. Most of the time, I like what I see. Even when I don’t, I stare anyway.

I live in the moment. And in the future. And the past. And in the hypothetical situations that I wish would happen but never will.

I eat a lot of salad.

I grind my teeth. I rub my hands together when I’m excited. I chew on my fingers when I’m nervous.

I don’t care about cars.

I tried to play the cello. I learned that I hate playing the cello.

I love school, but for the love of god some days I just can’t remember why.

I eavesdrop on conversations.

I dream every night.

I watch YouTube until I can’t feel my arms or legs.

I try to judge less every day. Most of the time, I am successful. Other times… I am uh, not.

Birds distract me.

I get angry. Maybe if girls didn’t get all up on MY plate then I wouldn’t get angry. Just kidding, in America 300 million barrels of oil are used each year producing food that never reaches a human mouth, it is presently acceptable in many parts of the world to kill women for not being “virgins”, and people still get far too confused when I offhandedly mention my best friend Natalie’s girlfriend. I would still get angry.

Sorry, almost let my inner cynic out there for a second, I’m better now.

I name inanimate objects. Just ask my bat, Alberto or his brother, Francesco.

I tell people they smell good.

I watch Dr. Phil. Daily.

I get good grades. Sometimes I get bad grades. Sometimes I get really, really bad grades.

I talk to myself.

I get overwhelmed.

I make good jokes. I make dumb jokes. I laugh at all my own jokes anyway.

I think. I think and I think and I THINK.

I catch spiders.

Sometimes I pray. Don’t know to whom or to what. Maybe I’ll figure it out someday. Maybe I won’t.

I love hearing people talk about themselves. With exceptions.

I speak loudly. When I get excited I speak more loudly.

I get déjà vu.

I feel despair sometimes.

I get chills down my spine when I hear accented voices or when I watch people drawing.

I work hard at practice. Sometimes I daydream at practice.

Most of the time, I say I hate being hugged. Sometimes, I really need to be hugged.

I deliver speeches. I tell anecdotes to my friends. I rehearse both.

I love talking to adults.

I randomly drop things.

I bicker with my boyfriend.

I get jealous of people, until I get tired of being jealous of them. Which takes on average 4.2 seconds.

I’m endlessly curious.

Sometimes I feel like a small fish in a giant, giant pond.

When I introduce myself, I shake hands. Always.

I embarrass myself so much that long ago I gave up getting embarrassed because it was too much work and I just don’t have time for that.

I have good days. And good weeks and good months and good years. Also have bad days, bad weeks, bad months and bad years. I try learn from them all. I don’t really know where  this year falls on the spectrum, but I do know I learned something.  I learned that the best chance I have for happiness in this world is to be undeniably, unapologetically, unashamedly me.

            I think I can handle that.