People think of me as the nice girl, the sweet girl. Which, I am. But I have other sides to me as well. I’m weird and short-tempered and I make mistakes. I’m mature, but I’m also not. I’m human. Part of me wishes that everyone could see every side to me, that everyone knew who I truly am. But also, I don’t care. I can’t care about everyone. I used to. I will wholly and fully admit to that. I used to care so much about what everyone thought of me that I lost sight of myself in the process.
These days I care about what I think of me. I care that I am a good person. I care that I forgive myself for my mistakes. I care that my friends and family know I’ll be there for them if they ever need me. Beyond that, it’s like… if people understand then they truly understand me and if they don’t, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I stay up too late, I wake up too early. I spend more money than I should and I drink farrrrr too much coffee for my own good. I’m inherently flawed and I’m proud of that fact.