Tell me, where have you been?

Why hello there.

I'm Anna.

I do what I want, and I probably do care what you think a little bit, but I'm not ready to admit this to myself.

I question everything.

I accept nothing at its face value.

I find myself to be arrogant, brash, and cynical.

No, I don't think I'm better than you.

But my way is right.

There is nothing to regret.

There is nothing worth blowing up over.

There are, however, things worth blowing up.

And I find it amazing that I can keep my composure better than someone who has triple the life experience that I do.

I find life experience to be a subjective measurement.

I find that I like myself.

I find that you usually don't.

And I find that, above all else, this doesn't matter.

Because in the long run, I don't have to make you like me.

I just have to make you fearmehatemeloathemeadmiremelookuptomeworryaboutmedreamaboutmefeelme.

I just have to make you feel.

And that is what I do best.

And the price to pay?

Nothing ever really touches me.