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I like chipped blue china and lace curtains and the smell of dust and record players. I like the sound of rain on a tin roof and marigolds and dandelions and how wet grass feels. I like lying on sun-warmed pavement on a hot day, being completely motionless until the sun feels like it's dug itself beneath my skin. I like cinnamon and apple cider and sci-fi movies and snowflakes and pewter jewelry and cracked porcelain teacups and antique thimbles and blue glass bottles and long eyelashes and being alone. I like striped shirts and floppy newsboy caps and historical facts that no one else knows, and fairy tales and cobblestones. I like braids and half-moon spectacles and cats. I like drawing huge ornate flowers on sidewalks in chalk. I like hedge mazes and red wax candles and the silver candlesticks my grandfather left me when he died. I like sepia-toned photographs and waking up at 2:39 in the morning when it's utterly quiet and I feel like I'm the only person left alive in the whole wide world. I like the people who make me smile, and they know who they are.

I don't like stagelights.