(no subject)
"Describe yourself."
Yes, describe me.
Tell me who I am, because I certainly have no clue.
I have sets of personalities.
I'm different with different people.
Even I'm confused as to how "Christina will act" or "What Christina will say?"
If you insist that I describe myself, I guess I'll start with my likes.
Let's see, I like pastel colors; I like cuddles and hugs; I like the crisp air after thunderstorm; I like the gentle breeze of summer; I like solitude; I like the quietness of the night; I like elegant dresses; I like glass-made materials; I like soft pillows; I like beds; I like a nice big kitchen; I like Jaejoong; I like my friends; I like the soothing darkness; I like silk; I like velvet; I like honest people; I like lace, ribbons, and bows; I like anything cute; I like puppies and kittens; I like a loving pair of parents; I like...I like...
I like a lot of things. Things I can't name.
I just thought of something: I am an escapist.
I'm the best when it comes to escaping reality and plunging into the reaches of my fantasies.
I can stay down there for hours, days, and years.
I wonder if I missed out too many events in my life.
I remember going there when I was younger, when I popped back up; the world changed.
Or maybe I changed.
What do I know, I don't even know myself.
What was I talking about?
Oh right, I'm an escapist.
When I see things I can't deal with, I run away.
I run, but I don't run far.
I care too much to run completely away.
So I linger around.
I linger and I linger and I linger until eternity has passed, and everything has moved on, yet I linger, hoping maybe something will take me away.
I guess you can say I'm a loner.
I don't like to be alone, but I crave solitude.
I'm a drama queen.
I should be an actress because that's my role in life.
I act.
I act every day.
I act like I'm not lonely.
I act like I understand.
I act like I fit in.
I act like I want to be here.
I act so much, I lost myself to my made up character.
You know what's funny?
I tried being natural.
I tried to be who I am.
I tried to show my feelings.
I really did try.
But I don't think I did very well.
No no, I'm describing myself.
This is very hard.
I'm sensitive and ultra emotional, and even though I like to think I'm mature and learned, I'm not.
I'm innocent and naive; either in a good way.
I'm stubborn and proud; I believe I'm always right, even if I'm not.
I'm self-centered and selfish.
I'm so selfish it's shameful to even talk about how I'm selfish.
That's one good thing here: I know of shame.
I'm kind and nice and helpful to others. I listen and I advise. I share and I give. I don't do this for you. I do it for myself.
Everything I do has an ulterior motive, and that motive is myself.
I wonder how I became selfish.
I wonder how I learned to be ugly.
Did I escape for too long?
Or dd I not escape long enough?
I think and worry, but I take no actions.
I know how to whine and complain about my pathetic life, but I never move to change it.
Is this teen angst?
But I've been angst for quite a while now.
I cry and cry and cry.
My tears are valueless.
I don't even believe in my tears anymore, and neither should you.
"Describe yourself"
I guess I can, but I won't.
Myself is private; she doesn't like to be exposed.
I'm here to protect her.
But I'll describe myself; I'll just lie.