Hi. My name is unimportant, though you know I'm going to tell you anyway. My name is Anna. I am sixteen; my eyes and hair are both brown. I'm the one with the smile you can't forget. The gum under the table? Yeah, that's mine. Was mine. Whatever. I lick the knife after I've spread peanut butter over my toast; sometimes I bite my half-painted nails. I like to eat the yummy bits out of our Oreo Os' cereal (the marshmallows, duh). I pick my scabs until they bleed, they scar. I used to suck my thumb. I draw highlighter rainbows. I was anorexic in seventh grade. I dislike the yellow gummy-bears. I like animal-shaped crackers. Sometimes I skip meals because I'm too lazy to eat. I still sleep in my undies with a faded-colorful stuffed elephant who has no name. My goldfish has a name – it's Louie. My parents are together, happily married.
Hah, okay, you caught me. That last one's bullshit.
I have to sit here for an hour and pretend I'm sorry and really give a damn about whatever trivial 'crime