ryles has become gifted. look at him. he's like that robot from short circuit the way he reads so fast. number five alive. or whatever.

some time ago i was meant to give you eight secrets about me.
one: i am insanely worried that i don't have eight secrets
two: maybe i prefer unrequited love to the requited type. because at least you can romanticise the unrequited type and the thought of what could be or what could have been is more exciting than what is or what was. i'm mental like that.
three: not my blog. everyone knows about it now. well almost everyone. but certain key people remain unawares. i am so afraid that they will feel stink when they find out about it - assuming that i don't love them or whatever.
four: i used to tell people i was uncompetitive. so that i could sneak up and defeat them without them noticing. defeat them in what, you may well ask. at the time i probably thought the answer would be life. gross. life isn't a game hello. it's cereal.
five: i don't like introducing my friends to each other in case they (eachother) realise i'm actually pretty dull and my friends are actually awesome. it's related to four i think.
six: my love of whitney's "i have nothing" may not be ironic. in fact in my music taste generally i'm not sure where the line betweeen irony and sincere love is any more. evidence: chamillionaire's ridin' is playing right this second and i'm blissing out. try to catch me ridin' dirty indeed.
seven: there were moments, brief, in season five of dawson's creek where i found dawson more attractive than pacey. SHAME-O-LA
eight: i am so messy. my default messiness is so gross it disgusts me. but i am pretty good at hiding it most of the time.

that's it. i struggled to find eight secrets. mostly because i actually have lots more secrets but am too chicken to tell y'all. maybe that's the real secret. i'm totally repressed. hold on, that's not a secret at all.