Let me be peculiar in the way I sit on my own toes. Don’t tell me my eyebrows are scruffy, I know, and I love how they look like my grandfather’s. Tell me how my crooked teeth make you feel less intimidated. I am as harmless as a mouse.
You can tell me that wearing bows in my long blonde hair makes me look like a toddler, but long blonde hair is much prettier with satin ribbons tied securely around it. It looks good long and shiny. Don’t you dare cut it.
Long distance relationships don’t make sense for hardly anyone, but I know that I am still melting in a puddle love with the most amazing boy who resides 1200 miles from my current room. You may tell me I’m wasting my time with him, and I will just throw away my watch.
The crook in my nose with the scar tells the story that I can’t smell what’s in the oven anymore, and no, I have no intention to fix that. Let me walk on the furniture and be oblivious to whatever reference you just made.
Tell me fashion is mundane, and studying film is pointless, and spending five dollars on coffee with foam is not economical. Tell me my fascination for counting stars when the sky is clear enough is corny. Believing in God is stupid and being proud of where I’m at is egotistical.
Don’t roll your eyes. It’s not ladylike. Okay. Speaking highly of yourself is going to give people the wrong idea. Wear this. Don’t write so dark. Less make up. Can you change your major? How about accounting? You make us so proud.