My name is Emily.
I am 20 years old.
Things I like: lists, glitter, Yorkshire, hair dye, glasses, plaid shirts, Burberry Prorsum, Enter Shikari, every single thing that Lady Gaga says, does and wears, travel travel travel, art (but not pretentious art), big dogs, loud music, Topshop Jamie jeans, red hair, Myspace over Facebook, the works of Bret Easton Ellis, polaroids, the sea, ankle bones, wrist bones, collar bones, hip bones, drunk confessions, journals, architecture, conversations with strangers, Alexa Chung, the sound of high heels, sunlit rooms, stationary, vinyl, meadows and forests, Avatar, contagious smiles, text messages, quotations, memory boxes, sarcasm, Springwatch, spontaneous plans, supermodels, the underdog, pubs, jazz and blues, scars, good manners, people who take care of their appearance (but aren't obsessive about it), nihilism, sexual innuendos, gingerbread men, Chanel, money, summertime.
Things I dislike: my hair, uncomfortable shoes, people who throw bottles at gigs, injustice, the conservative party, cheap prints, having beautiful friends, people who say 'sarcasm is the lowest form of wit', bus conductors, the fact that I am almost always cold, running out of credit mid-call, getting sand in your shoes, Southerners, incorrect grammar, being the only one willing to do something, being the only one able to afford to do something, well thought out status updates that don't get the credit they deserve, bullies, peas, people who let themselves go, headaches, not being able to help, ingratitude, obnoxiousness, walking slowly, the Geldof sisters, tiger poachers, bad literature, bad art, bad music.
Soul sista
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