I currently have 5 band aids in various places on my person, and would have one on my finger, except I think it's too much of a waste for 24 clumsy hours.
The main reason for my bandaidage is blisters on my feet because it is clearly impossible to design shows that are comfortable. Also, my sister made me go shopping with her to buy stockings which is good because I burnt I hole in my work pants from the iron and needed to buy new ones.
I have a bad habit of picking at my fingers when I finish exams early, which is basically every exam I do, and yesterday I picked at my thumb after chem. I think I just get bored? Either way, I'm, a walking disaster area.
It's funny that all these injuries coincided with a week that my life is slightly falling apart (or maybe that's just my mind).
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I think it is human, natural, and beautiful to be flawed. I think our quirks are what make us unique, different, are what make us who we are. They give us happiness, sadness, confusion; they give us purpose. But, there are a great number of times in my day when I wish I was not so flawed. Times I wish I could just shut up and stop talking, because everything I say annoys someone. Times I wish I could look away, turn around and walk away from what I feel; make a choice, and follow through. Times I wish I could mention a friend's name without people giving me sideways glances, I wish I could look forward to an assessment task (don't judge), without people finding alterior motives, I wish I could make eye contact with people, without others getting offended, I wish I could shake a tree without sarcastic comments.
But I made this choice. I made this choice by deciding to not keep secrets. By telling everyone everything they ask to know, and not lying, I've made a choice to put up with the glances, the comments, and the overanalysing.
I don't regret my choices, and I don't back down when people question why I'm so open.
This is who I want to be. The girl that tells everyone everything, and shakes trees, and grazes her knees fighting for chocolate. I'm the girl who fights for what I want. Whether it means scratching myself on the ground, or giving in to the teasing from my friends, and the overawaredness of other peoples' presence, I'm willing to fight. I'm willing to fight for what I think is right, for what I think is true, and I'm willing to fight to get you out of my head and my life.
I don't like this feeling, and I don't want it.
And now, I'm ready to fight.
...I think.
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