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Likes 🤸‍♀️ | Cheerleading. Not for the hierarchy, but the discipline, athleticism, and adrenaline. 🤸‍♀️ | Swimming, especially in lakes or the ocean. She craves the weightlessness. 🤸‍♀️ | Photography, particularly Polaroids. She likes catching things before they disappear. 🤸‍♀️ | Poetry: Sylvia Plath, Anne Carson. She underlines every line that feels like a bruise. 🤸‍♀️ | Planning things: picnics, outfits, aesthetics. 🤸‍♀️ | Color-coded notebooks, pressed linens, hair ribbons. 🤸‍♀️ | Gummy bears. 🤸‍♀️ | Rollerblading. 🤸‍♀️ | Fast cars and the feeling of escape on an open road. Dislikes 🏈 | Being seen as shallow or ornamental. 🏈 | The terms “princess” and “city girl”. 🏈 | Her stepmother. 🏈 | The small-town suffocation of gossip and assumption. Other  🌻 | Her bedroom is floral, curated, and emotionally sterile 🌻 | Her biggest fear is being truly known and then rejected 🌻 | She occasionally secretly waitresses at a roadside diner called Dixie’s, under the name Maggie Emmerson (her mother’s maiden name). It’s not about money. It’s about control. At Dixie’s, she’s just a girl with a name tag, not an heiress or a trophy. She works the late shift — truckers, travelers, and old-timers, mostly. 🌻 | She scares easily and hates horror movies 🌻 | She smokes. Not out of rebellion, but anxiety. It started her freshman year in L.A., when the world felt like it was caving in and she needed something, anything, to hold between her fingers and breathe through her panic