She’s the complete opposite of interesting.

Seventeen with dark brown eyes, nearly black as coal. A disaster of beauty, each day is of both fascination and exhaustion.

Chunky combat boots, skinny jeans, mismatched patterned socks, denim vests.
Her thinkspace is drizzled with scraps of papers, numerous pens, and empty cups of Koolaid and coffee. Existing here in her perfect world are columns of literature of all types, books big and small placed wherever they will fit. There is comfort in pen and paper. Sketchbooks are an appropriate place to rest her head. Sleep is the sweetest escape. The written word is a familiar art. Blood of glitter and gold.

Despite her lackluster personality, she is a mystery all in herself.
The quiet type, with a way with words… a walking contradiction, if you will.

She is self destructive.
Timer set, wait for detonation.

“Watch out for this girl, she’s got a gun for a tongue.”

—

I’m Casey. Cue the background music, because I had no idea how else to tell you about myself.

Haha, hi.

:3