♫♫♫ You're ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece. ♫♫♫

I read to escape. I read to forget. I read to travel into someone else's body, into some other place, in some other time, while cuddled up in my bed.
I'm lazy, I'm energetic. I'm childish, I'm mature. I'm absentminded, I'll remember everything about you. I love my peace, I love talking. I'm self depreciating, I love myself. I'm a million different colors, I'm an imperfect masterpiece.
I write, yet I struggle to call myself a writer. I have a fake-leather book I jot down poetry and articles in. I hate typing, but one day I might just get my lazy butt off the bed and post them here.
I've started a story. I don't know if it's good or not. One likes to believe that it will get a billion views and that everyone will love it and it'll get picked up by a publisher. Unfortunately, that is as much fiction as my story.
I love music almost as much as I love books. I paint for fun, though my paintings are about as good as a five year old's.
My mind belongs to an old lady, and yet they tell me I'm 14 years old. Most days, I believe them.
I can talk about almost anything, so if you feel like you need to get something off your chest, don't hesitate to send a message to me. I don't presume I can solve it, but I can provide company, no judgement.
One thing I cannot handle is animal abuse. An injured human can often point fingers, complain, sue and let others know what they have gone through. Animals cannot. So if you believe in 'harmless play' and torture, irritate and hurt voiceless creatures, or believe in trapping, training and changing them to the point where they are no more than emotionless robots who agree to whatever you say, please don't bother to talk to me. My energy is too valuable to waste typing expletives in All Caps with multiple exclamatory marks, on you.
Well, I guess that's it.