waist-deep in thought...
I like sci-fi AND chick-lit. I always feel awkward in new situations. Always. I have read Twilight. I am PASSIONATE about the things I study. I feel awkward about my hair always being the same. I want pink streaks in it. I hate my flabby underarms. I really want a Tenth Doctor costume. I have never tried sweetened condensed milk and don’t understand the obsession with it. I like feeling cared for, but never dominated or patronised. The Thunderbirds movie is one of my guilty pleasures. I hate it when people tell me I need my eyebrows done, even when it’s true. I feel very young, sometimes, and worry that I’m not as mature as everyone else. Then, other times, I feel much more mature than everybody else, and worry that that makes me a freak. I worry a lot.
I really liked physics in Year 10 Science, even though I only got a C on the exam. I have my VCAA student number memorised and I don’t think it will ever go away. I don’t think sex is dirty or wrong or only to be saved for the ‘right person’ in the context of marriage, but the thought of having it still scares the hell out of me. I have only made two spelling mistakes in the last two years (the words were ‘bourgeoisie’ and ‘narcissistic’ and I can now spell them, as a point of pride). I have never seen a Batman movie. I don’t understand the appeal of Glee. I really want to go to Monash University next year, but am terrified of a) getting very lost, b) failing, and c) not making any friends.
Australian politics is my crack. I swooned when Jacob took his shirt off in New Moon. I used to have the entire 2005 - 2006 Doctor Who soundtrack on my iPod. I have been known to cry over a game of Uno. I avoid new situations for fear of making mistakes, but love the feeling of successfully stepping outside my comfort zone. I believe that we only accept the love we think we deserve.
I wrote this letter for you, if you have ever said, or implied, that you love me. Because I don’t know if you know the me that I do, and I have found myself scared, lately, that I have hidden my flaws and my idiosyncrasies too well, and that your professions of love and affection are based only on my surface being.
So. This is a glimpse of who I am, deep down.
Do you love me?