Satisfaction

My blogs are always such a jumbled disarrayed mix of ideas, thoughts, sheer madness.
It's because in my head I'm thinking 27 thoughts all at once.
Well here goes my brains, my heart: Janice Yang.
Listen. Stop and Stare.
Right this moment, as my blood is rushing throughout my body, circulating, allowing me to breathe, I'm having a moment.
I swear it's probably better than getting multiple orgasms although I don't know what that feels like.
I wouldn't say I'm narcissistic, but I'd call it respect.
For the first time in 4 years, I'm really loving and understanding this girl who claims shes 5'2 tall when she's actually 5'1.5 tall.
I love how I act, how I look, how I feel right now. So very much. Fuck all the flaws. I'm feeling fucking grand.
Don't you ruin it for me.
I love this girl typing away, the girl who doesn't know anything about kisses and handjobs, who studies last minute.
I'm such a dork. But I'm in such a good mood not to give a fuck. :]
If I were a guy, I think maybe I'd be able to fall in love with me.
This imperfect mess of a girl who just minutes ago was laughing, yelling "IHAVETOPEEDADDY!" at the top of her lungs while eating tofu and drinking soup straight out of the pot while it's still heating up at the stove, could inspire at least one human being; impact someone's life like some pop hit song.
I'm feeling so damn good. You can't get rid of it.
I know the feeling will die down soon.
Tomorrow morning, I'll look in the mirror and think "Ew."
I don't care. I'm so darn beautiful right now. I just don't care.
COUGHCONCEITEDCOUGH!
Nobody notices the little things. It's for the best.
How my eyelashes are jet black after I cry; how when I push them away/say I'm okay, I'm actually begging them to please don't leave please hold me tight and make it all right again.
How I can't EVER go a day without washing my ass and vaginal region with Dove soap.
How I don't give a fuck when a guy pulls down his jeans while we're in a stuffy taekwondo room, but I do give a damn about popping random pimples.
How the simplest things ever, the things not important to a normal human being excites me and makes me happy.
God, I need a person who can look under everything and stare into my small heart.
I'm such an amazing thing created by one hella fucked up spermie and egg.
I want to dance in the rain with the person that would hold a future for me.
I want to run through supermarkets, sit on the floor and eat bags of chips and tell the employees to "please shut the fuck up and yes i will pay for this crap after im done having the time of my life laughing and sitting on the floor of this supermarket eating chips outta the bag."
To you: I am not in a fairytale, was never in one to begin with. When you told me to grow up, I said okay. I said yes. I smiled. You know what? I'm staying young, because being mature is something I can do easily when needed, but immaturity is something I want. It runs in my system. Immaturity is the thing that makes me break into pretty playgrounds, catch fireflies, play with clay, have passion, and make me stack chairs in the middle of the sidewalk to look up at the sky and point at my two stars. I'm not going to change for andybody. Everybody. If I can't change for the one person I devoted almost everything for, I can't do it for you. I'm happy the way I am. Let me live. Let me be free. I'm only 14 once.
Whew. Today I walked in through that green door and for a second when I heard a rustle and footsteps, I thought it would be him holding a box of sushi and miso soup.
Smiling at me. Smiling for me. He only smiled for me once.
I never experienced somebody smiling for me except that day.
That tiny overbite of yours and teeth tiny enough to belong to a toddler.
People smile at me, smile with me, smile for themselves, but I don't think anybody's smiled FOR me besides my parents.
Enough of this pure nonsense. I don't get myself at times, but there's so much to learn.
I AM going to be stuck with myself until the day I die. Let's enjoy the ride.

Call me annoying, call me wild, stupid, crazy, selfish. I won't prove that wrong to you.
But say it to me, if you prove yourself better than what you call me.