so i may/may not have had to write a piece of writing introducing myself to a stranger for english, which i wrote during my spares today, and seeing as i have not yet introduced myself unlike theodore, i thought what hell, the rest of my stuff is rubbish as it is.

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Howdy!
Who are you? On the other hand, who am I? I guess that I can say for both questions that I am not quite sure. Are you a figurative character, disguised by a therapeutic exercise? Do I describe myself as my own pre-conceived idealistic notion?
That honest truth is,
I have no idea.

A person’s physical expression of characteristics is proved a combination of both their inherited genetic information and their environment, proving how deep the effect our surroundings and experience play upon us. I grew up in the house my parents built and are still paying off, in a developing area of the outer suburbs where farms were converted into residential lots and catholic schools. Still living there, with my mother, father, older brother and the dog I said never wanted but now truly adore, I know that I base what I want my own life to be upon it. And in ten, twenty years time, I’ll have my own family, my own niche. A daughter worshipping her older brother, and in time, his friends.

I must confess, I am a schoolgirl. Even better, a Mac.Rob one, so I do have to include that hallowed place as a major influence on who I am today, as well as how I am in the future. The school was a new start, a fresh face, not somewhere where merely wearing the uniform weighed the students down. A whole new world, of discovery, of thought, to me Mac.Rob was a brand, a lifestyle. Something to be followed, and define who one was, not by boasting, but by simply being.

I asked a friend, who I was, and she said ‘Star Wars’. Why did she say Star Wars? “Because it’s one of your favourite shirts.” She replied.
Indeed it is my favourite shirt., as shrunken and old and tattered as it is. But how does this affect her perception of myself? I see her everyday, and being a friend I absolutely adore, I spend a copious amount of time with her, so how would she remember and catalogue me by a t-shirt I barely wear often, in a vain attempting to preserve? I remember my first day of my current school, raving about Anakin Skywalker to whoever would listen and faux-judging them on their opinion. Does it come under impressions? Am I always destined to be a thirteen-year-old brace-faced moron?

Help me to help you. What sort of memorable moment would you like to know of? I find it hard to pinpoint anything in particular, because honestly, I find life both melodramatic and uneventful. Simultaneously.

Moments of Glory, of Heartbreak, of Loss, of Pain.

Do I retell pointless tales of Plastic Tiaras and Halloween parties and Numbing Grief and Wallowing in a pit of Self-Hatred?

No I guess not,
For we are both still strangers.