My life is like a pair of cute, in style flats worn with white gym socks.
Awkward and obvious.

To put it simply I am that person at a school dance who doesn’t really know the words to the song that is playing, but who wants to sing along anyway. So when the only five words I actually do know roll around I shout them as loud as I can and clap until long after I’ve realized that everyone else has stopped.

I am the girl who waves at the kids on a school bus, as they wait for the red light to change, and in return receive the finger from a shaggy haired fifth grader.

I am that person who, before fourth period, describes the horror movie I saw the night before in gory detail. The kind of person who doesn’t notice everyone in the room quieting down for class until I am practically shouting “…..and he chewed off someone’s face and wore it as a mask!” while the rest of the room is completely silent.

I am the girl who has dreamed of talking to that boy who sits three desks in front of me, the one with the nice smile and all of the bracelets up his arm, for almost two months now. And when I finally work up the courage to talk to him he tells me that his name is Jeremy, not Daniel.

I am the girl who trips over thin air, calls chemistry “physics” and is told that the gauze wrapped around the blisters from her shoes “looks like toilet paper.”

Some days I ask myself, “Can I go one day without making a total idiot out of myself?” But those are usually the bad days. For the most par I can laugh it off, or laugh with friends I have found who are just as strange. I tell myself I’m so glad I wear socks with paper air planes on them, or make silly mistakes. Because if I didn’t. I might miss out on a lot more than I, or anyone else for that matter, could have ever imagined. A life full of laughter.