Confessions of an ex-teenage pragmatist

[nny]

I'm not clever. I get confused easily. My short term memory is shot. I'm a pathetically pedantic geek. I store useless knowledge and can therefore fool the casual observer, on occasion, with my supposed brains. I don't work. I'm a slacker. Most of the trouble in my life can be traced directly back to me. I'm remarkably bad at starting conversations. I'm scared of wasps. I dislike peach yoghurt. I'm pretty sure I have soup on my hoody. My hands are cold. I'm starting work in an hour and a half. My trainers smell bad. Ten minutes ago a spider was abseiling for me, and five minutes ago it was attaching guy ropes to my head. In the early mornings I get paranoid and whiney. I'm remarkably good at killing conversations in that mood. I'm terrible at YM conversations, partly because they don't flash when I get pinged and I forget they're there, and partly because I'm rarely very interesting. I'm hungry. I really need to wash my hair. I should probably be leaving now but I've decided to fill this message box with truth. You should, too. I want to cut all my hair off, but I won't, because I never do. I want to get three tattoos, but I won't, 'cos I never do. I sometimes wonder what love feels like, in case I miss it. People with marriages and kids amaze me. I think even if I do end up with someone long term I'm gonna need my own room. I've started buying things for a study/library that I'll probably never have. I really want an antique globe. Introspection on me ain't pretty. My job is destroying my hands, one tiny cut at a time. I like money. I've never had a fifty pound note. I don't like needing it, though. I want to frame it, one day, so people in the future will go oooh, history. Man, capitalism was weird, wasn't it grandma? And I'll say who the hell are you? Get out of my house! And I'll have snakes. I like the way snakes feel against my fingers. I'm not good with plants. I'm not good with hangers. Or tidying. I'm not particularly good with people. Kids I can deal with. They seem to like me. I'm scared I'm not good enough, and somehow you'll find out.