slew of words

Drinking coffee every morning starting in fifth grade was not a good idea and now I’m hopelessly addicted to caffeine.

I’ve never outgrown my fear of the dark or spiders or clowns or most things.

While doing homework or writing essays or waiting in line or feeling nervous I have no control over chewing my nails.

In emotionally charged situations I come off more harshly than I anticipate to.

I have resting bitch face and I do absolutely nothing to make you believe anything other than that I am a bitch.

Sometimes when I’m on a plane and it gets a little bumpy, I start listening to religious songs and panicking as if those will be my last moments and my sudden surge of Christianity will save me.

I feel most confident when dressed like a soccer mom who went overboard at an Old Navy sale.

Occasionally, I crave the taste of salsa so badly, I will unscrew the lid and take a sip straight from the jar.

One of the places I feel most calm and centered is in cemeteries because my grandma raised me to believe they are more like playgrounds than haunted burial sites.

I am guilty of seeing someone has texted me, reading the message, and forgetting to respond altogether.

When it comes to napping, my self control is thrown out the window as I convince myself that a 8:00pm – 9:00pm snooze will be a beneficial thing to do.

If I am feeling bored, I take that as an excuse to eat something.

When on long car rides, I will put on personal concerts so loud and enthusiastically, that I lose my voice.

Faced with the slightest bit of anxiety, I spit words out like vomit even if I know they are straight up lies.

I have opposite seasonal depression where Summer and the act of sweating and the fact I cannot put on a sweatshirt make me want to constantly cry.

Sometimes I take #treatyourself to an extreme and convince myself purchases will bury some hurt.

My bark is absolutely worse than my bite.

When I have had too much to drink I forget to tell my friends where I am as I sprint all over town reciting pep talks to myself.

My coping mechanism is to make fun of myself- because if I don’t laugh at and love and accept all my quirks, who will?