Update On The Self-Absorption Post

(This one.)



My name is Angela Sparks.
I am seventeen years old.
(We are going to ignore any implications that go along with that.)
I still love my sister. I miss her. She is having too much fun without me.

I love the opening guitar on No One Really Wins (Copeland, my loves).
There is no foreseeable end to the number of caramel apples I can eat in one sitting. (Though they are best when pacing around.)
I leave people I love and hurt people that are nice to me.
I have added 1-2-3 pairs of fishnets to my collection. Black this time, and pretty designs.
I am still in love with the boy who still waits tables at Steak N Shake, who is still too old for me, and yes, who still does have my robot drawing. (He even brought it up, not me.)

I have gone a little neurotic. (You couldn't tell, could you?)

I don't shave my legs and I don't listen to hardcore (or at least, I haven't in awhile s....a....d).
You shouldn't love me.

I overanalyze, I'm hypercritical. "You're just judging right and left today, aren't you?!"
I don't write, I don't read, I can't make friends with people.

The only thing I'm really good at is falling in love with the wrong people at the wrong time or the right people at the wrong time, or the wrong people at the right time.
I'm a fatalist.
I AM SELF-ABSORBED!

I am currently, as you read, ACCOMODATING!!!! ::gasp::

I haven't been kissed on the cheek in a long time.

I am pretty good at negative self-advertisment.
I am not audacious enough to call someone I barely know at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Today I didn't write.
Today I fell asleep with my contacts in.
Today I kept living even though I was completely unsure of what I was doing.
Again.
Again.
Again.

I really like digression. I miss having brown eyes to look into.

I DO DUMB THINGS, CONTINUOUSLY (with the hope that if I repeat it enough it will stop being true!)!!!

You shouldn't love me.

I will fall for the adorable boyishness of it every time.

You shouldn't love me.