User Profile

Hi, my name is Samantha, and... I'm addicted to writing. (Hiii, Samantha...)

Alright. So I did have this monstrously long thing typed out before. But now I guess I'll keep it short and sweet.

I like the simple things in life- bubbles, stars, seashells, stuff when it's really clean, quiet summer days, crickets, animals, etc.

But I also happen to like not sitting around absorbing this kind of thing all the time and only doing that, because I tend to become very disillusioned with how perfect and happy everything is in its stagnating, reactionary calm. And then, completely uncalled for, I use big words to highlight how I feel. When I'm calm... I use simpler words.

I get very tongue tied. Sometimes I'll mix up the words in my sentences, or just the letters, or I'll say the wrong word completely that only sort of sounds like the word I meant. This never used to happen, but I get the feeling it probably has to do with the brain cells that litter the bottom of my skull. Or that I'm just getting lazier as I get older.

I like to pretend time isn't passing. I'm not getting older, I'm not soon going to have to accept responsibility for my life, pack up and head to college. I'm not even going to have to return to high school for my senior year soon. Hell, I can't fall asleep before dawn.

I thrive on small signs of affection. Making an effort to talk to me, giving me a hug for no reason, just laughing at a stupid joke (mine usually fail), acting happy and grateful to have me around, listening to me talk every once in awhile- that's what makes my day, what makes me feel comfortable and secure.

My family's too fucked up to describe. I'd need a two story high whiteboard and 50 different colors of expo markers (#2- the expo 2's are best) to chart it all out and be able to show you the many, volatile and odd sections of my family. Suffice it to say Mom's there, Dad's dead, stepdad's like a watermark- there, but hardly- stepmom's pretty cool. I have two halfsisters, two stepbrothers, two stepsisters, none of whom live with me. Hell, I hardly live with me.

I dream of one day publishing a novel- or series- under a pseudonym, becoming very, very rich and buying my own island. I know exactly what the mansion would look like, as well as the numerous themed gardens and beaches. And the pirate ship that would be in the docked there for when I'm feeling particularly escapist.

Honestly, I can write all there is to say on this, but you can't tell a person by their livejournal bio.

So much for short and sweet.