Fact.

Just like that classic Black Eyed Peas song.

Where is the love?

As I feasted in the best dinner of my life called 16 Handles, a friend and I casually figured out life on a random outside table in the core of our neighborhood, post-Macy's magic, naturally. If a person is going to judge me on my religious views, cultural background, sexual orientation, or absolutely anything I cannot personally change, I wouldn't want to waste one minute trying to prove myself otherwise. Ignorance makes me shake my head in pity and cackle like a witch. Needless to say, there is no right or wrong. Life isn't about pushing your beliefs and "facts" on others who ultimately feel inferior with time. It's about living in the moment as a wholesome individual and taking life day by day. Whether your happiness is being a glutton of Urban Outfitters' autumn plethora or collecting glittery neon Lisa Frank stickers as if gypsies were the norm, just be yourself.

I'm Bre. I don't fall into a sole category nor would I ever want to. I may be, hands down, the most immature and mature person you will ever meet. Perhaps it's because you don't trade dinosaur silly bandz on the weekends, inquire about a person's height in inches, or partake in witty language that spices up normal conversation like a splash of whiskey does a diet coke. Maybe that's why I chose to live in Manhattan, where normal is nonexistent. Being sheltered is my worst nightmare, as it exceeds the fear I have in crazed baboons or the uncertainty of countless licks to a tootsie pop.

Shout out to those who take life too seriously: Stop.