I have a non-conforming streak and I like to think that I question the predictable inevitability. Cynicism and my paradoxical optimism lay the groundwork for my rather mystifying Life philosophy.
I cannot live without my shoes. I impulse shop enough for it to be a hazard to my bank account. I weep at movies. I thrive on football. I love my Arsenal. I adore my Cesc.
I'm a hopeless romantic but am so jaded that cynicism has become me. Now I'm just a masochist fueling my own delusions.
The confusing facade, my outspoken nature and years of angsty indignation have perhaps created in me the modern version of the huntress. Now where's my wooden club...
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