A few weeks ago I wrote in my diary: ''The only benefit to being a teenager is living in a tube of neon technicolor.'' This was late at night when I had read Andy Warhol's Wiki page on my IPod for the hundredth time and re read one of my three Interview magazines. I probably fantasized about living in the 60's and meeting the Rolling Stones at the Ed Sullivan show too. Heck, at least I'm ambitious! I could use this dream to invent time travel, after all! But that little adage from my diary makes a lot of sense in my life; all of the things I enjoy, I experience in a uniquely (and at least in my mind) teenage mindset; in a beautiful, chemical, technicolor world. If I love something, my heart literally feels like it could explode, and when I lay down and close my eyes, all I see is whirring rainbows and sparkles oozing from every corner. Those, in case you weren't fast enough, are my beautiful, chemical, technicolor emotions. Keep up, people!

Everything beautiful to me is very unique. Many people can't make sense of a girl who adores One Direction... and The Velvet Underground (if you haven't listened to The Velvets, do; it'll change your life). But these things are also very much the same. They make my world a little more beautiful, and bearable. I don't get the best grades, and I let that validate myself far too much. When I listen to my favorite musicians, that all just goes away. The beats and rhythms and stories of crazy confused people wandering through New York (or a guy who just wants ''Something Great'') puts me in a place where no matter how badly I think I'll do on the ACT, I'll be fine. If Edie had a place in this world, I sure do.

At this point, I should probably expand more on the chemical aspects of my life, the not so good things. I have really, really, REALLY big problems with anxiety. Everyone knows me for having extremely pale skin, but my hands starkly contrast that with their bright red color from washing them over and over and over, until I go in my room to lay around and hide and forget about that cookie I was going to eat, because I just can't wash those germs away hard enough. And as I said before, school is not my strong point. I actually did get decent marks on my last midterms, but it took a lot of anxiety and tears and flash cards (like seriously, I almost drowned in flash cards). But before that I got some pretty bad grades, and I completely ignored anything I did right, because those things, in my mind, didn't matter. After all, your algebra work sheet is completely indicative of your morals, behaviors, and life (ironically that worksheet covers none of these subjects).

And the technicolor? What do you think of when you hear technicolor? The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines it as ''used for a process of color cinematography.'' That's definitely not what I mean when I use it, though. I define it as that emotion, when suddenly you wake up and all of the menial yet beautiful things you never noticed before... suddenly reveal themselves? Sort of like the invention of color movies, actually. Technicolor, for me, like ''beautiful'', (and maybe even ''chemical'', in that convoluted ''you don't appreciate anything until it's taken from you'' philosophy) makes the world more bearable. Where would I be without all of the colors and sounds of the world? Bored as a rock, that's what.

So what am I getting at with all of my metaphors and analogies? Am I trying to pretend to be the girl Augustus Waters? Nope. I'm definitely not as sure of myself, or as confident, as our beloved/sometimes criticized for being unrealistic favorite lit boyfriend. It actually comes from being extremely confused. I never actually lie about how I feel, but anyone who asks me usually doesn't get the true story, because I can't explain it. And I bet a lot of us can't either. How can you, after all, when you live in a tube of neon technicolor? You probably can't, from all the question marks in this essay.