The first thing I would usually tell you is my name, but you will soon forget it even as it leaves my mouth and rushes through one ear and out the other. I would then tell you how old I am, but who really cares? Because I don't look my age or act my age. I am too young in the face and heart, and too old in the way that I go to sleep at 9 pm and enjoy the company of things that are silent.
You might be curious if I like vodka or do illegal drugs, but did you know that I inhale the words of a new book as if they were a richer sustanence than air? I sit in a chair and make friends that aren't real. I jump off of buildings and live underground. I've been to paris and china and even to the undiscovered end of space. I've fallen in love and died a thousand times over.
I could tell you what clothing brands I like and what makeup I buy and you would be content, maybe even proud. But if I told you what swims in my head and the things that can make me cry you would smile politely before slipping away with an excuse about no time.
You might wonder if I like girls or boys, but did you know that what I like most of all is inanimate objects and food in which I don't have to wear pants.
If you asked me for a secret you might wait in expectance for something scandalous, but what I would tell you is that I like to meet new people, but only from the safe distance of my computer screen.