I'm really just your average Canadian, but half of me is still in the UK. Too cynical for someone of only 22. Not easily trusting. Heavily fucked up in the head.
I love the forest. I love the mountains. I love the sea.
Fourth year uni. Lover of languages, drinker of tea, rider of horses, lover of travel, attempter of writing, adorer of books, avoider of homework. I can usually be found huddled under a blanket, eating buttered toast in large quantities, and generally avoiding all romantic relationships.
I speak English, French, a bit of Italian, and minimal Sindarin Elvish.
All you really need to know about me is that I'm a goddamn mess inside, cry like I get paid to do it, drink more tea than your average Brit, and love life so much it scares me sometimes.
Life in my teacup is a strong but unique blend of silent desperation, tears, mild bipolarity, off-key singing, and wildly unrealistic fantasizing.