brancusci's bird in space
i was talking to my friend.
and he said, "hannah, tell me a secret."
and i said, "i don't have any secrets."
and he said, "sure you do. here's one. i hate the majority of television."
and i said, "i used to wish my nose was smaller but recently i've decided i like it."
and he said, "there you go. to me, secrets are little-known things about a person that help you get to know them better."
so then we told secrets for a long time.
and i decided that i really like that. that secrets are just small facts.
i can only write in my journal with the pilot g-2 pen.
i love it when my eyes look green.
i think i look prettier right before i get ready for bed than any other time of the day.
apples remind me of kindergarten.
i like to own green things.
the ideal present for me would be an art postcard with a genuine love note written on the back.
i drive with the windows down when i'm alone, even if it's freezing.
i take the long way home.
i trust too much.
i feel at home in an art museum.
i had to restrain myself from pointing out a statue in star wars that looked exactly like brancusci's bird in space.
i don't like technology.
i love mail.
i used to sing to dragonflies as a small child.
my mother is my best friend.
and my other best friend is my antithesis. we disagree on a daily basis. and yet, we continue to function.
i know what love is because i know what love isn't.
i own 84 shirts and that fact makes me feel selfish.
i'm a sucker for men who play the saxophone.
and my dad wanted to name me anastasia.
what's your secret?