This is (almost) verbatim text from a chemistry unit project I did in Grade 12, and I still think it holds up, so I’m putting it up here. Damn, I was so funny back then. I miss the version of me that was willing to be so cheeky on assignments.

If you were to meet glaive today, you might not guess he grew up in a sleepy North Carolina town. He’s thin boned, over six feet tall, and dresses like he’s trying on a type of angst that doesn’t suit him. Over the last two years, he’s constantly shifted his aesthetic. He’s flipped from shorter chestnut brown curls to longer platinum blonde to medium length but unhealthy dyed black hair.

I was chatting with one of my friends yesterday, just to check in, when our conversation moved from small talk to the topic of being artists on Instagram. We’re both pretty unknown on Instagram, and I suspect she’s just as unsure as I am about how much of an audience she actually wants for her work, but the discussion was still mostly about how “well” we were doing. And as of right now, she’s doing much, much better than I am, despite the fact that I have had my account for about two and a half years longer than she has. To be fair, she is a much better artist than I am, which totally accounts for some of her success. However, not all of it can be attributed to that. At all.