la première

If you asked me to tell you about myself I'd probably start it off with my accomplishments. Really that wouldn't tell you much though... because recently I realized that everything I've accomplished has a soon approaching expiration date.  An expiration date that wears a cap & gown and feels a lot like panic, excitement, and nostalgia all at once.  So since my accomplishments won't last, maybe I'd tell you about how much I hate flip flops, or that I prefer the mountains over the beach.  And when you don't understand that, I'd tell you I love the mountains because my best memories were made there, and I haven't spent much time near the ocean.

I'd tell you that no matter where I'm standing on earth, I can point at something and tell you I'm allergic to it.  I'd tell you that I've lived in the valley my whole life and that I know half as many people as I did when I was in 3rd grade.  I'd tell you that I talk in run on sentences when I get passionate or anxious or excited or stressed or really when I'm feeling anything at all, so I apologize for that in advance.

If you asked me about my future, I'd tell you that every time I tell someone where I'm heading next year, they look at me like I'm an idiot.  And that makes me feel like an idiot. (also it kind of gives me panic attacks.)

If you asked me about God I'd tell you a thousand times that I believe.  Sometimes because I actually believe.  Sometimes because I just want to believe in something.

If you wanted to know about love, I couldn't tell you a lot.  I've never been in love.  Except I think I stepped in it once, and I've still never been able to get it off of my shoe.  I can't decide if I'm annoyed by it or if I think it adds some artistic flare.

If you asked me about my pet peeves, I'd talk to you about how much I hate microwaves. I just really hate microwaves.  The messages that never go away, the high pitched beeps, the door, the food that splatters and makes you say, "to heck with this." Yeah, microwaves: I despise you.

If you told me you wanted to know every part of my soul, I'd tell you that the blue prints are made up of every word that has ever been said to me.  Because for some reason, that's what I let define me.

If you asked me about my fears, I'd say: heights, bats, my antisocial tendencies, moving away, dishonest people who seem honest, beautiful brown eyes, driving on ice, and probably green beans.

If you wanted to know my flaws, I'd tell you that I talk too much when I'm nervous (as you can probably tell already), I overanalyze everything, and I give people the benefit of the doubt when they don't deserve it.

If you asked me about what matters most, I'd say words because I think they are the only things that last forever.  I would also say relationships, the moon, oversized hoodies, vulnerability, good music,  taking deep breaths, Christmas lights, long drives without destinations, my dad's hugs, after school naps, movies that make you cry, and people that don't.

If you told me you wanted to know more, I'd tell you to stay tuned.

Because you're about to learn a whole lot more about Alta June.