I feel like everything is big even though I know it isn't. But sometimes I get so sure that foilage will sprout from my hair folicals. My freckles are like the moon and its possible the cracks I walk over could give whenever they want. I somehow have convinced myself I am most definitely a realist. I am, surely.
Does get sad about introversion, but gets distraught by wasting personal time with others.
Likes wine, red and beer, dark.
I like to be called good as much as I love to be called bad and that's what pleasures me most in life.