I have black hair that is not dyed and trendy-layered cut. I have lips that always smile and hungrily wait for a kiss. I've cheated on boyfriends, turned red with passion. I go places to observe people. I love to wear dresses that follows my bodily curves and reveal my skin. I've cursed God and bargained my soul to the devil. But my hair is still black, and my lips still smile, and I probably will never once again cheat on my boyfriend and bargain with the devil.
I spent hours over the phone till it burns on my ears or my mom gives me that frightening yell. I cry whenever something terrible happens or an odd sensational feeling comes out.
I am nowhere near perfect. I eat when I'm bored. I