Might be lame but I kinda love my personality. Sorry ♀️ 'cause I'm never sorry for being the me that I'm.
1) The moment I take up the quill words flow. The sadder the better the flow. When I'm happy I smile and words pop up randomly, out of nowhere and inscribe themselves onto the pages which I never take care of to handle.
2) Getting surrounded by positive people unknowingly and having the knack to find good people everywhere.
3) For one moment I'd be like the most pessimistic person alive on this Earth with nihilistic perception with words on fire hurting everybody I encounter including myself and then make me smile from my soul and I'll irradiate eclectic hues of sunshine and you won't be able to find another person who loves life more than me, and I turn into a beacon of Hope and lambent.
4) I stare everyone and notice peculiar things about human kind. Unbashedly I'll stare at random strangers and observe without them knowing because they're too busy in their life and bend neck of theirs tell me everything about their busy lives. But I shy away when someone I like stares at me.
5) Really comfortable solving every issue of yours but the moment you'll ask me what's troubling me it's going to take me a very long time to open up. An extrovert with sprinkles of introvertness and with a huge wall of insecurities that shows its presence when you'll try to know the real me.
6) Reading personalities aside from novels and the meanings and etymology of words. And reading countenance and deciphering what they might be thinking.
7) Making people feel comfortable and feel home. The people I like. Right away after two minutes of meeting people I decide whether I should continue to talk to them or just letting them go away from me.
8) Taking revenge. No comments. Karma might be a bitch but she's my master.
9) Telling people what's their true potential. And hidden calibre and how they can polish it. And I can guess easily what's going on between two people with precision.
10) How to talk in cryptic language and insulting people in way where everyone except themselves would understand. So that they don't repeat what they did to me or someone else ever.
There's one more. * Thinking hypothetical situations of every other situation including my death. Like what will happen if I jump in front of the metro and fall of the terrace something like this. Don't panic. I'm not being suicidal right xD
What am I doing in your life. There's no place for me. Not even to hide. There's another girl weaving your name into all of her dreams. There's another family looking at you with hope, to be their daughter's prince charming. What am I doing in your life. Why do our conversations continue to take a stroll from our childhood to work to politics and inappropriate sexual humor. In moments of joy and pain, why do we still look for one another. What am I doing in your life. I can hear her footsteps as she continues to come nearer. I can see it turning to flesh and bones what once used to be my home. But we still linger, like the last bit of plaster that refuses to fall off from a wrecked wall. We still linger, in each other's mornings, in each other's nights... in the reflex of messages, that we send as soon as we open our eyes. What am I doing in your life. I can clearly hear her laughter, her fragrance fills the air. I can hear her bangles clunck, the ruffling of the pleates of her skirt. I have been packing my bags, ever since last summer. My suitcase is heavy. Heavier is my heart. I don't know if I should pack my things or just leave without erasing traces of my parts. What am I doing in your life. Standing midway. Blocking your vision, your way... from a future that seems so bright. Why am I still lingering by your side. What am I doing in your life.
I was constantly at war... dying to feel something... to end this numbness in my chest. To cry somehow... like I used to. I wasn't accustomed to this dry spell in my heart. Found myself running from heartbreaking movies to books with tragic plot and sad songs... anything that'd hurt me and make me cry or at least help me feel something. Yet another part of me, feared getting even an inch closer to emotions. For every step I took towards my feelings, that part put up another lock on my heart. With every passing day, I was becoming this isolated something, dying to feel... but locked in a hundred locks, behind a thousand gates and thick walls. A part of me was saving me from something that another part didn't wanted to be saved from.