People are weird. I am silent.
I'm so sorry for not blogging more, it's just... sometimes, I feel like I'm always saying the same things all the time. And lately, I haven't really had anything to say. But I will say this:
Eccentric means odd, peculiar. It's one of my vocab words this week, and I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, I feel like that's what I'm like in a way. Not how I look, but how I think and act. A lot of people my age don't get along with me (not agressively, or anything). It's more of a passive thing. If I'm talking to someone, and they don't like my personality, they'll smile too much or talk to me like I'm five, their voices too cheery and forced. If someone does like me, though, they'll stay quiet, or become slightly sarcastic with me, only showing genuine smiles now and then. Because I love sarcasm, and even if someone's being sarcastic with someone else, and not me, I might laugh to myself. Because, really, I love dark, evil humor.
So, yeah, I might be eccentric because I love 60's rock and antique finds and celtic things. Or because I believe that everything happens for a reason. Or because I like learning but hate school. Or that I hate perfect, cliche moments, and crave that cute quirkiness in a person. Maybe it's my face, or no, my facial expressions.
But, whatever it is, I have eccentric qualities. But I'm not eccentric. I just like eccentric things. Or different things. Wow, now I'm confused. Forget it, forget I said anything. There, I'm different. Period.