My name is Marianne. It’s kind of a weird name, you know? Not like it’s a bad name, but it’s my own name, and saying it makes it sound, in some way, like nothing.
It’s almost like I know too much about myself to use my own name. Maybe I’ll change my name to Shirley (no one has the name Shirley anymore)-Rice-Chevelle-Loud-Asian-A.D.D.(but-not-really) McHistoryandwritingloverson.
I would never feel stupid saying that.
It’s weird, the way I think.
Maybe everybody thinks that about themselves, but if everybody’s weird, wouldn’t it be kind of weird to not be weird? So maybe I am just normal.
I’m kind of obsessed with chewing gum and sleeping in and making out and eating at home and having someone to talk to before I go to bed and driving.
Okay, I’m still obsessed with coffee and Chipotle; is it bad that I don’t like people watching me when I inhale my burrito because I am a very self-conscious eater?
My burrito is made up of: extra rice, black beans, chicken, cheese, sour cream (optional), and lettuce (optional).
Yeah, I really don’t like vegetables that much and I admittedly put lettuce in there to make me sound better.
Yes, I eat the same thing every time I go. And no, I will probably never change.
I love everything about fall: the colors, the smell, the chilled air, and of course the football (Who Dey!).
I procrastinate.
I always tell myself I’ll do it, but it never gets done.
I love how coffee makes you stay up all night long so I can waste my time writing random things on facebook or on this site.
I love being seventeen.
I love texting.
I like talking on the phone even more.
I like talking in person even more than that.

I love dancing and singing at the top of my lungs in my unders when no one is home.
I can’t sing whatsoever, though.
Like, I’m pretty sure I made someone cry once when I tried singing.
I hate grape juice (I know, who hates grape juice, right?), Meryl Streep, and my forth grade school picture.
I hate how police give you tickets for listening to the radio too loud.
Dbags.
I hate getting caught.
I have trouble with relationships and becoming too attached and not being attached at all, and I keep every single love letter, movie stub, concert ticket, and teddy bear because I am uncomfortable with throwing away my past.
I’m the type of person who burns love letters, but only after making copies of them first in case I might want to read them someday.
I love taking pictures of nights I won’t remember.
I’ve kept a diary since I was nine years old in the third grade.
My shirt in my seventh grade picture is basically see-through and my bra is very visible.
I screw up good things.
I hate it when I get selfish.
I hate people who disappear from my life without warning me first.
I say sorry a million times a day. I’ll apologize if you tell me to stop saying sorry.
I’ve done a lot of things I regret and made the same mistakes over and over again.
But I’m not the type of person that dwells on something for too long, because I believe in giving second, third, and forth chances to make anything better, even when the making better seems hopeless.
Actually, don’t quote me on that. As a matter of fact, I’m just going to say you can’t repeat any of this at all. Except that I hate grape juice. Go ahead, tell everybody.