You always hear the stories of those average girls growing up and becoming everything they ever wanted to be. They find the perfect man who is sensitive and caring and become famous and make tons of money. Their lives that were once so treacherous become beautiful like a shining star glowing in the night sky.
Yeah. This isn't one of those stories.
My name is Britney and I am a nineteen-year-old nobody with impossible dreams and a will to bite the hand that feeds me. So where does that leave us? My life isn't all that interesting. What could I ever sit here and blog about that might attract anyone? Whoever knows the answer to this question can feel free to answer it for me, because you never know what is going to be hit or miss. And ninety percent of the time, it's a miss. But I'm not here to be the least optimistic person out there. In fact, I find myself to be a very happy and positive human being, even if I do have a weird streak. Can't say it's a bad thing though.
I suppose the thing to do when you're not that fairytale princess with a life that meets all of your expectations is at least try to have a personality. Who even knows where it might get you one day? I'm not your typical girl. I'm not the girl who will spend hours upon hours fixing her hair, or who would kill to get those shoes during that big sale. I, frankly, hate painting my nails and prefer to wear jeans and a t-shirt no matter where I'm going. Comfortable and casual is me. Being artistic is me. Living a passive-aggressive life of an extrovert is me.
I've had people in my life tell me that they didn't approve of me. That they hated me. That I was boring. That I was too sarcastic. That I was too open. Too outspoken. Too belligerent. Too persistant. Too tomboy-ish. Too loud. Too quiet. Too tall. Too short. Too skinny. Too awkward. Too dark. Too happy. Too obvious. Too distant.
If you can think of an adjective, I have been named it.
And you know something? They're all absolutely right. I am just. Too much. And of course, too proud of this.