I'd just like you to know... (Part two)

I don't think life is truly fair.

I feel that fate is rarely part of the equation.

When I drink soda, the bubbles tickle my nose.

I like playing with sawdust and glitter, even if they're annoying to clean up.

I don't think anyone can ever truly understand another person fully.

I like riding my bike until my legs give out.

I feel like ice cream: I'm here in my little plastic cup, and the heat is making me melt. When it finally gets cold again, I'll freeze once more, but I won't be nearly as pretty or easy to eat as before.

I think calling yourself a lamp is a bad analogy.

I've had the urge to pull a fire alarm just to see what happens.

The only piece of my mother's advice that I've blatantly ignored is to not go shopping when hungry.

I don't eat breakfast.

I've been called a female version of Holden.

I like the way I look in my underwear.

My brain has a hard time letting go, but my heart doesn't.

I feel like I've never had a real father figure.