I prefer my hair disheveled and my black nail polish chipped, but I hate knowing that they aren’t impeccable. I like it when my eyeliner is smudged and my clothes seem rumbled, but I dislike seeing them in their unkempt state. I act as if everything will turn out okay for everyone else, but I’ll be the most pessimistic bitch for myself. I'm a contradiction condensed into a sorry excuse for a sixteen-year-old girl who's trying to find herself in this pathetic world.