Who Am I? A Walking Contradiction in Glitter Nails

If I had to describe myself to someone, I’d probably smile politely, laugh nervously, then try to change the subject. But since that’s frowned upon in writing prompts, here goes:

I’m outwardly empathetic—the kind of person who will nod along to your rant, offer a snack, validate your spiral, and quote a meme to cheer you up. Inwardly, though? Inwardly I’m a little caustic, especially when it comes to myself. My inner monologue? Think: stand-up comic meets existential philosopher with a chronic case of imposter syndrome.

I’m the girl who’ll laugh at your joke because I think you’re clever. I’ll also laugh at my own joke because, quite frankly, I’m hilarious and someone needs to appreciate me. Might as well be me.

I love soft, fluffy things—blankets, clouds, marshmallows, emotionally available men (still a myth, I’m told). And yet, I’m also the person who, at nine years old, poked a cottonmouth snake just to confirm that yes, it did feel smooth and supple like the nature book said. That moment still lives in my mother’s memory, right between “the glitter glue incident” and “the haircut I gave myself with safety scissors.”

I’m one of the guys. You know, the kind who can debate movies at 2 a.m. and still show up with nails that could out-sparkle Las Vegas and earrings that say “feminine chaos.” Duality, thy name is me.

As for love? I believe it’s equal parts fascination and calculation. Like yes, butterflies are cute, but also—do you meet the spreadsheet criteria? Can you spell “your” correctly? Do you pass the vibe check and the background check?

So who am I? I’m soft and sharp. Sentimental and savage. Someone who’ll offer you the last fry and roast you mid-hug. A contradiction with a good heart and better eyeliner.

And honestly? I kind of love being that way.