Daisy has been a part of my life since tenth grade. She needs a novel. I've been writing it for the longest time. And rewriting it. And rewriting it. It's the stupidest love story. And Daisy is such a loser, and I love it so much.
Daisy is a name for damsels in distress, cartoon ducks and people that generally keep others captivated by their jubilant smile. And while the name is flattering and a title worth living up to, I can’t say it’s one that’s relevant to my everyday life. The only thing that semi - relates is that my grandma has a corner for her daisies in her garden during spring. She always kids about how when the sun comes out she sees me everywhere. Also, ironically, we live on Tulip place and my best friend’s name is Rose.
I’m seventeen, average height, less than average boobs and weight, and even less than average, microscopic ass. I like to sketch things, I hate when people say ‘i’m a bad drawer’. I was one too, everyone is horrible at everything until they start practicing. Don’t blame your crooked stick figures on the fact that you just suck at drawing, blame it on your pro skating skills or your expert level scores on guitar hero. Whenever the going gets rough, i’ll open up my sketchbook and concentrate. When the going gets rougher, i’ll open up one of my many coloring books. Coloring is just plain relaxing, you should try it one day. I swear it’s not just for five year olds.
For instance, when I get bored with coloring in my books, I color my nails with the same crayons. After digging Outer Space in long enough, in one nail, I go for Macaroni and Cheese on the next. Soon my nails pop in color like my room, which is covered in magazines and postcards and artwork that swirls into rainbows. My room is my space. No one is to touch it but me, and since it’s that private i’m absolutely in love with my room. If i could lock myself instead like Rapunzel and keep myself hostage? It would be done. It’s always a mess, but I love it that way, because that’s how I find everything. My makeup corner only suitable for myself, is streaked with smileys drawn in sparkly eyeliner and mascara fingerprints.
However. While I gift myself with tizzy of bold shades and audacious flavors in life, I hardly give others a taste of my craze. I’m shy and always tend to sleep in class or after school, so no one really gets to see who I am. I like mystery, and If I could’ve picked it myself, that would’ve been my name. Don’t call it stupid. I know it kind of is.