story of my life.

never have i felt uncomfortable with the soul inside of me, or begged to be a little bit cooler.
my dresses are fine; they suit me.
the hairs on my circle head are dull, and i like them just like that.
in fact, i even like my circle head.
in dark theaters, i talk too often, and undoubtedly too loud.
i chew on ice, and laugh when i shouldn't...
i protest pants, head up church tickle-back-turns, and sleep 'til noon.
i appreciate clean white socks, covered parking, and smart boys with bed head...the ones with stupid jokes.

and often, i find my brain wandering past the things i know, and exploring silly alternatives to the list above.

but.

i catch myself in writing.
i stake my hole in the ground, and remember that the soul inside of me will always be my favorite one.
and then, i go to sleep.