Oh, what about me?

Well, my favorite dead guy is Hemingway, I talk in my sleep sometimes, and I really like ampersands. I cut all my hair off once because a boy told me not to. I would have studied abroad, but my GPA isn’t high enough. My GPA would have been higher, but I like whiskey a lot more than a little. Pets outnumber people in my family more than 7 to 1. My biggest fear is a barn fire. I kind of like animals if you couldn’t tell. Anyway, I’m something of an adrenaline junkie, I desperately want to be ambidextrous, and I once dreamt that I sneezed and my eyes turned blue. I’m still waiting for that one to come true. Every once in a while, I like to send handwritten letters, and even less frequently, I like to paint. My eyesight is better than 20/20, but I struggle to describe my hair color and I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Of all the letters in the alphabet, my favorite is J. I was thirteen when my parents split, sixteen when the divorce was finalized. Those were a weird three years. Clowns scare me a little bit, I have pretty acute brand loyalties, and I was born a skeptic. But I’m a happy skeptic, if you can believe that exists. My grandma is my hero. I owe everything to my family, actually. And a number of my friends are lucky to be alive. I love all of them relentlessly, but struggle to tell them so. Poetry is my best outlet, I eat my hamburgers upside down, and I prefer men’s flannels to any other article of clothing. Any deal breakers in there? Or do you kind of like what you’re hearing? This is me. Are you in or are you out?


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