she


Who am I? Even I'm not sure. 

 My name is Cosima. I officially mark my age every 3 August since... well, I say on one of my blogs. You'll have to prove you're smart enough and can do the detective work to deserve finding out, at least until I'm the legal age to be "interesting", although anyone who knows me will inform you that I most certainly am interesting - whether that is a good thing depends on how open-minded you are, and how much you mind having your ears talked off by an - oops, I almost told you there!

I live in my own head, while my head inhabits the general area of my body for the most part, and I, as a whole, inhabit a small Mexican town which has been "discovered" as an "undeveloped" (undeveloped my butt - Mom and I may live on a dirt road with disoriented roosters that sometimes crow at 7 in the evening and other times at 3 in the morning, but we have wireless internet! So does my dad's office/photo galery. So whenever I post anything, you can thank TelCel.), "magical" town, and has thus changed for ever - in theory for better, but who knows. I'm a Constructive Pessimist. 

My parents are divorced in all but name, and live on opposite sides of town - not that that means much when 'the complete other side of town' means about seven miles from the other side.

I would like it if you found me compasionate, empathetic, mellow-tempered, wise, kind, graceful, and not brutal in any way, although in many situations in the past and most likely many to come in the present I have been/will be sadly lacking in any or all of these qualities. I think that's what makes me me. The brutal is one of the most defining parts however, in my opinion that is, because it reflects on my life - being teased constantly makes you a bit brutal yourself. In many situations I have been anything but kind, because to the people who make me miserable that's a weakness they can build on. I'm doing my best to reverse this fault, and I do try to be kind, but I'm warning you, since if you're on this website you appearantly have to deal with me, directly or indirectly. However, whether I just verbally tantrum about it or actually do something comes from a good piece of advice from a grownup who, surprise surprise, wasn't trying and/or being condecending or trying to pull wool over me eyes (a trait rare in adults - I'm not sure if in this one it was permanent): consider the audience. What I might do to Mr. Y, who is really a kid at heart (a silly fourteen-year-old boy, by my calculations) or a peer differs from how respectful I am on the Web, or with one of those silly goose adults who insist on at least a vestige of formalities and respect, the sillies - kids get along fine without much of that (no offense to you nice people reading this who may or may not be adults

I'm idiot enough to just barely fit in, but I'm smart enough to stand out. I'm narcistic enough to look out for "#1" when it makes sense to, and to take photos of myself aplenty, but that's about it. I'm tall enough that I'm taller than my mother, but I'm small enough for the size to be convinient. I like cats enough to be furious when they are insulted, but I'm easygoing enough to know when to stop (usually). I am fat enough but thin enough;  child enough but mature enough (meaning immature). I am a geek. I am sometimes daunted by the size of the world vs. one girl who'd like to do something important!; and when I get in that kind of mood I am dead depressing. I am cynical enough but have hope enough. I'm a not-exactly-perfect balance between positive and negative. I am myself. I am alive, but only just. Or maybe not.


(I still belive in cabbits
I don't have to see them to belive:

...Eyes can be decived.)

 

Is there only one world after all,
which spends its time dreaming of others?

Truth is cheap. 
No one wants it.