log eight

I have written nothing about myself. Rather, it’s been nothing but my misinformed musings of human nature. In order to practice characterization, I will attempt to create some sort of visual of myself.

I am Loretta. I think I’m a writer. I don’t write as much as I should. I am of average height. I am not too pretty but I’m not bad looking- I’ve reached, somehow, an almost miraculous form of medium.

I like to dance. I’m not good at it and I barely ever do it. I’m too scared to try and get better. I like to read. I’m not good at it and I barely ever do it. I don’t know why I don’t try and get better. I like music to an extent that hurts me both ways. I possess insignificant innate talent.

I dress rather normally. I tell myself that I’m good but I am devastatingly prideful. I am wrapped up in myself. The amount of pride I conceal within myself is astronomical, but I like to feign humility so I can convince both myself and others that I’m a beautiful creature. I hate to backbite, but I shamefully indulge in my human need for it so that my ego can stay well-fed and happy.

Maybe if I improved Loretta’s Logs, they could be published. Then there would be some kind of benefit to spilling out these halfway-dishonest feelings. Time is effort but I am too attached to wasting both, huzzah!