I'm lonely. So I act independent and strong? No. I get mad too quickly, and I hog the covers, and my second toe is longer than my big one. My hair has it's own zip code. Plus, I get certifiably crazy when I've got PMS.  I am so unspeakably loud you'd consider me speakers. I'm cowardly courageous, my friends bodyguard except in chiwawa form. So short and small you'd think I'm breakable. Which I am not. I'm made of steel and muscles, gotta love strong soccer legs. I'm a horribly good friend, foe, sister, best friend, girlfriend and enemy. I come to be hysterically calm, *to calm if you ask me.* I am also so precisely off-center, I'd consider myself a bad target. Speaking of targets! I'm an archer.  Which makes me patiently anxious, waiting for the kill. After reading all of this I should come off as certifiably crazy to you. If not, you're crazy.  That's about it. Read my stories sometime!