Messy

Music fills my ears and my foot mindlessly taps out the beat.
My mind sings lyrics and tries to conjure up the words you're reading right now.
I write and delete and write and delete again, knowing I want to say something but unsure of what it is.
Part of me wants to be poetic and abstract and find beauty in the way the air dances across my skin in the quiet isolation of my room. Part of me wants to tell you all how silly I looked this morning, with my nice Sunday dress and converse sneakers. Part of me wants to talk about a certain someone that's got my attention at the moment.
I guess, for the time being I'll start with this;
Im a mess, and people are just going to have to be okay with that. My hair is always in a state of tangled disarray, no matter how many times I brush it or comb my fingers through it. Im always going to be flying in at the last minute,  praying not to be late. Never in my life have I been able to sit still, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. My laugh...my laugh is ridiculous and embarrassing and loud but its like my personality in sound. Im awkward and nervous when I talk to people but I never have been very outgoing. Overall, im a mess. But I like it. I feel like there's beauty in chaos, you just have to be willing to see it. The people who can find the beauty in the hurricane of me are the people I want to know. And if they can't see past the mess and the chaos, then maybe they weren't meant to stay very long. I might be a mess of tangles and dresses and sneakers and laughs, but im me, and that's all that matters.