I’ve never really thought about what I was going to do with my life. I guess I always figured something amazing was going to happen… eventually. Something that would change everything, like maybe some rich old widow who had lost a daughter years ago to leukemia was going to knock on my door one day asking for me to come live with her in a mountainside mansion somewhere. If that were to happen now, my first thought would be, how did this crazy lady find me? I was so sure when I was younger that someone would take care of me and hold my hand when I fell; dry my tears, even if this person’s sleeve was Versace or Chanel. But no one ever really understood me, and some didn’t take the time to try.
That’s when I realized my lunch wasn’t free.
I had to work for my daily bread, and get what I wanted on my own terms. And I came to really appreciate life. I took the bus downtown one day, just to look at the artwork splashed across the dirty walls of old office buildings. Some writers for the city newspaper thought the drawings should be washed away, but I wanted to take pictures, super size them, and plaster them on the walls of my room. This was new and innovative, this was original and couldn’t be copied, just the way I wanted to be.
Sometimes, when I’m taking a walk somewhere randomly or just meditating, I wonder which direction my life is heading and draw a blank. I have never been an A not even AB honor roll student, nor have I ever been socially or physically adept. I am an introverted, intellectual, reading fiend with a penchant for insane music and dark chocolate. I try hard in school but it’s just not in the cards, I don’t mind meeting people but have a harder time making good friends. I realize however, that I don’t fit into any genre or stereotype. I am the antichrist of high school socialites and whitebeard politicians, and I do myself proud everyday when I go to school wearing the most ridiculous outfits, or when in light conversation, I reel in politics and K. Marx.
I used to be so afraid of being judged that I was afraid to breathe, lest it should startle the person sitting next to me. Through the school years; from elementary to elementary, two different middle schools, and finally to high school, I was a hermit. Starting in middle school my hair grew long to hide my face from the world, my clothes turned black to offset me from all the dreaded bright pink and neon green that the other girls where wearing. My mouth sewed itself shut so I wouldn’t say something stupid. Some called me “goth” or “loner” but I took that and put it into a new context. I was “different” and “creative”. All along I was imagining that I was a stigma, pushing new friends away when I was entirely free to be how I wanted. Now you shouldn’t be surprised to see me dancing around gripping a hairbrush in my hand singing my brains out to the Beatles’, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand…” and I’m not alone anymore. I’m happy being who I am, all day everyday, 365 days out of the year and hopefully there will be more years to come.
“Yeah you got that somethin’, I think you’ll understand
When I feel that something. I wanna hold your hand…”
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