|My name is Terri. I'm 20 years old. I live in a little house in a hillside suburb overlooking the small city my dad likes to call a big country town. I live here with a middle-aged lecturer from the art school, a fellow vegan, and I enjoy the absence of burning flesh as we cook our dinners. I spend my early mornings, woken by the sunlight, and evenings sitting on my desk by the window, looking down over the city, my true home, the only place I've ever loved. Sometimes I write, sometimes I do homework, or play The Sims 3, or listen to music I burnt from dads collection, but mostly I just think, and watch, and think, and smoke. I smoke a cigarrette brand I can't pronounce and lie to myself about this is my last smoke, my last pack, no more. My favourite part of this house is the animals we share it with - my housemates three old cats and dog who sleeps with me, my four rats, my babies. The little birds that patter across the roof, the neighbours cats who visit us. The constant spiders whose homes I can't bare to remove from the corners.|
I study part time at the Arts faculty, philosophy and Japanese, and work part time at my parents general store in a bumpkin town hours from the city. I walk where I can, bus if I can't and cab when I can afford it. My girlfriend lives a fifteen minute walk away, with a struggling musician and an advanced Fine Arts student with no plans for the future. We plan sleep-overs when we have time, go to the pub for a stein or two when we can afford it, and go to tea-parties and themed dinners with our friends.
My life has no direction and I love that I don't know who I'll be in a decade, where I'll live in a year, what I'll feel tomorrow.