She puts a smiley after everything because she doesn’t want to be taken too seriously. She writes everything down so she won’t forget but she still does and she never remembers were she puts her letters but the words keep flowing so she puts them on paper until the paper turns red and her hands turn blue and all she’s left with is a question mark.
She’s capable but she doubts her capacities and they tell her the sky is the limit but she doesn’t hear them because she’s mesmerized by the clear blue heavens which seem lower than before but even more unreachable.
Always too late, she never arrives and the location changes but the landscape stays the same and she tells herself that she’s bored and that she needs a distraction while actually she’s afraid to admit that she’s happy where she is because she really wants to go somewhere else.
The ice is too cold so she stays inside but she hates being locked away by the wind and the snow that is so white it blinds her, though when it is summer she hides in the shade and doesn’t look the sun straight in the eye out of fear that she might catch a glimpse of her own reflection.
She’s always afraid to turn her back on the darkness for it might be offended and so she lives like a slave to the unknown and the light-less and the little things others might call bad habits but to her they are familiar which is the same as family in a dictionary nobody but her can read.
And they tell her to change so she counts all her calories and stops eating carbs but she always looks at the wrong side of the box, maybe on purpose because she doesn’t want to know the ingredients to a self conscious life and she believes that she’s different but pretends that she’s not in a desperate attempt at individuality.