96897235

I like to think I am eighteen. I say a lot of lame things, some might say it is charming. I have a flipping sweet bee-eff, he has made me the happiest girl out there, 01.01.08. There is nothing cute about public displays of affection, trust me. Everything I say is laced with irony. I smell like fake tan 80% of the time. I have morals, you on the other hand have herpes. I cry when I am frustrated, sad, angry, tired, stressed, anxous, happy, emotional, relieved, empathetic, thankful. Yeah, I cry a lot. I'm sick of every teenage girl being a bisexual vegetarian with stupid obsessions. I find the idea of “forever” naïve, soz. I don't handle big moments well. I have come to realise that life is just one massive cliche, luckily I am good at cliches (: