Love isn't her calming you down when you yell. It's her yelling, just as loud, just as hard, right back at you, right in your face to wake you up and to keep you grounded.
I hate doing these.
That's such a cliche statement but, in my case, it's truth.
I always feel as though I'm being pretentious by going on about myself. I'll settle for giving you a little less than what you need to know and a little more than what you want to know.
I'm Five Foot Two. Short, I know.
I have mahogany coloured hair, that has a hint of red.
My eyes are hazel but, tend to look a murky green or golden colour.
I have snakebites and my ears gauged to a two.
I rarely leave the house without skinny jeans, a good, familiar feeling hoodie, worn sneakers, and a hat of some sort.
I'm a dime a dozen.
I'm either too loud, or too quiet.
I have a quick temper.
I speak what's on my mind.
But, at the same time;
I listen intently.
I have a sense of humor.
I'll always be there for people who need me.
I'm intelligent to a fault.
Lastly, I like girls. Romantically.