Saturday, June 30, 2012

Oops, I'm only 15. My bad.

Sometimes, I completely freakin' forget that I'm fifteen years of age. When I'm all decked out in my fancy PJ's, my hair all sexy, drinkin' diet soda like a boss, reading awesome blogs, checking email and being responsible like that; That is when I stop being fifteen, and I begin being a single 20-something chick living in NYC and a VP to some legit magazine like Vogue or something.

I feel awesome.

I am untouchable in this state. Literally nothing can annoy me. Dad will be his normal self, and instead of this making me want to rip my hair out by the bloody roots, I'm just like:

And it's a great time. I sit straighter, I eat healthier, I feel flippin' epic ALL THE TIME. I seriously think I look like this:

But then something happens and I remember that I'm just this:

Then I'm like "Awwwww I'm still so adorable!!! Look at me, so awesome in my cuteness!!!"

So really, nothing bad ever comes out of this.
  1.  I lapse into my yet-undiagnosed psych disorder and become 20-something.
  2.  Feel awesome.
  3.  Realize I still sleep with stuffed animals and draw in coloring books and I am totally lovable and darling and precious.
  4.  Still feel awesome.
That is all. Now let this baby panda wave goodbye to you.

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