You’re the life of the party. You bring out the “color” in everyone around you and are always initiating spontaneous adventures. Like the oversaturation of your favorite filter, you are always filled with emotion. You’re the kind of person that cries at Extreme Home Makeover or refuses to get out of bed the morning after your favorite got booted off The Bachelor. Your bold personality is reflected in your wardrobe, which includes polka-dotted jeans and belly shirts that you wear together on a regular basis because you can pull it off (that goes for you too, men). If you were a celebrity, you would be Jim Carrey. If you had an animal spirit, it would be a toucan.
You’re an old soul. Sometimes, your dreams of becoming Martha Stewart keep you up at night. You’re constantly looking up new recipes on Pinterest. If you’re a mom, you spend your days Instagramming pictures of your children eating glue and looking jolly. If you’re not a mom, you spend your days uploading pictures of baby shoes in department stores and wishing you could be uploading pictures of your children eating glue and looking jolly. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lived in a rural small town, where chicken feathers are a form of currency and Honky Tonk Badonky Donk is everybody’s favorite tune. When you see teens loading up on technology, you start to yearn for a simpler life, a time when dancing involved ballgowns and had a lesser chance of getting your pregnant on the dancefloor. If you were a color, you would be Sunshine Yellow. If you were a time of day, you would be the morning, which is the time of day you prefer anyway, so it’s fitting.
You’re misunderstood. You like the way Brannan enhances the shadows in your pictures because it reflects the darkness festering in your soul. You like to brood on occasion, but only at small parties where people will notice your distant gaze and ask you about it, at which point you will begin to explain the insignificance of life and how something or other is a social construct. At some point in your life, you went through an emo and/or hipster phase in an attempt to publicize your new pessimism. In your spare time, you write dark poetry on sites like DeathJournal.com (because LiveJournal is for people whose lives are troubled by “Life’s destructive mood swings bent on bringing ruination to all humans” as you call it) and MySpace, which you later abandon because no one would understand the depth of your suffering. If you were a season, you would be winter. If you were an article of clothing, you’d be homemade flats made out of material only bought in America.
You want to be sophisticated but in a classier way. You stare at Burberry items through the window and drink all your beverages with a pinky up, even bottled soda. Your senior year art teacher convinced you to invest in a film camera and you spent your college years developing black and white still lifes in the dark room that capture the banality of the ordinary. You don’t need fancy effects to draw attention to you. Instead, you try to leave people with pure meaning in your work, without getting distracted by the colorful extras. You want to leave an impact on the world. If you were a job, you’d be a serious actor. If you were a zoo creature, you’d be a zebra or maybe an eagle dressed in a suit.
You’re the bubbly friend. When you’re not cheerleading or giving people fodder for blonde jokes, you’re dolling yourself up for a night out on the town (or even a walk down to CVS because you never know where Prince Charming will strike). Your obsession with old movies like Pretty and Pink and The Breakfast Club can be overwhelming sometimes, especially when you start quoting them in daily conversation, though your voice is so high that only dogs can hear your musings. You wear a skirt no matter what the weather and you would wear only pink clothing if it were socially acceptable. High School Musical isn’t on anymore so you spend your days watching trashy reality TV shows and looking up vintage jewelry on UrbanOutfitters.com. You probably wear plaid. A lot. If you were a piece of candy, you’d be a bubble gum flavored lollipop. If you were a type of furniture, you’d be a lava-lamp or a heart-shaped pillow.
You want to watch the world burn. Not actually, but you like to annoy people. Buttons were meant to be pushed, you say, and you seize the opportunity whenever you can. You express outlandish opinions to get a response from your peers, such as “If you think about it, Hitler was actually a good guy,” and “AIDS caused global warming.” You believe in expressing the honest truth, even if it means telling your girlfriend that, yes, that dress makes her look fat. You get slapped a lot. You’re a conspiracy theorist who thinks that everyone is out to get you. You’re never invited to smoke weed with your other friends because it triggers your paranoia and no one wants to watch you scan the premesis for cops every 2 minutes. In conversation, you talk over others so they’ll pay attention to you. When they walk away, you follow them down the hall screaming their name loud enough that teachers begin to get concerned. If you were a type of music, you’d be heavy-metal electro-pop (yes, combined). If you had an idol, it would be Hugh Hefner.