The Me's favorite number is 4. If given a choice to pick, four (or a multiple of four) will always be the choice. The Me loves 8 almost as much as 4, as in the mind of The Me, 8 is the daughter of 4. For some reason, however, The Me disapproves of 16. It may be 4x4, but 16 is, as we all know, very much a rebellious and vexing child who seeks only to cause problems for the four. Oh. Also in the mind of The Me, four is male.
The Me's favorite color is red. Given a choice of all the candies in box, The Me will always select the red one. If there is a choice of reds, The Me will always choose the most intense red and the swear it has the best and most unique flavor . . . even if all the candies taste the same.
The Me has always resented the concept that blue is for boys and pink is for girls. Fuck that. RED is for girls. Red is rich and deep and wicked and scandalous. Red can't be blackmailed because she quite joyously and brazenly lets everyone know all of her misdeeds. Hmm. Perhaps it does make sense they try to promote pink for girls. Pink is demure to red. People fear the women who embrace the red.
The Me's favorite letter is L. Even if The Me's name did not start with L, there is reason to believe L would still be the favored letter. L has such a contrast in presentation. Sometimes it is a perfectly rigid right angle. When L is cursive though, it loops and makes lovely ovals. It is an elegant and feminine letter. Well, elegant but dangerous. Lust. Love. Loki. Lore. Combine L with three letters and your whole world can change. Oh.....it goes without saying, perhaps, that a red L is the most scandalous of all.
The Me loves hot cookies. Hot and almost still uncooked on the inside and burnt on the edges. The Me loves chocolate cake, bitter pickles, and the scent of lavender. The Me piles her bed high with pillows and sleeps on all of them. The Me loves the feel of warm blankets and cold pillows . . . all at the same time.
The Me gets panicked and depressed. The Me has mental issues and sometimes despairs. And yet . . . The Me always knows she is loved, always feels grateful, always gives thanks. The Me sings songs in her head, made up lyrics to other songs, sometimes strange little tunes of her own. The Me loves minor keys.
Sometimes, The Me dreads the morning, dreads the day, dreads the life. Sometimes, The Me tires of being The Me and wishes to be someone else. Only for a while though. In the end, The Me truly loves being The Me.
The Me hopes you enjoy being YOUR The Me as well.
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