The awkward moment when you go to school looking like the Human Trashbag and everyone around you looks effortlessly beautiful.
I try to tell myself that it takes effort, but I mean ain't nobody got time to do that everyday. So clearly they're either a) robots sent from the Capitol to make us all feel inferior or b) naturally gorgeous.
As much as I"d love to entertain the former, clearly these girls are naturally just drop-dead gorgeous.
And then there's me.
With my deformed bun, my obvious acne because I'm-too-lazy-to-wear-make-up, and whatever random thing I threw on in my catatonic state this morning.
As I write this, I'm sitting in bed, my hair disheveled, in a my Wonder Woman 3/4's tee and some random grey pajama bottoms that might've once been one of my brothers', with my blankets wrapped around me.
I'm preparing myself for a write-a-thon (hopefully) as opposed to using my mini-break to I dunno hang out with friends and bask in each other's awesomeness like I guess everyone else does.
But no.
I have 0 social life. I look like something from Where the Wild Things Are almost every day of my life, and I'm a mess.
But you know what?
I don't care.
There are times when yeah, I feel like I should have straightened my hair and put on something cute and maybe about ten pounds of foundations, but the thing is...I give 0 fucks.
It frustrates my sister, my mother, probably everyone forced to look at me on the daily, and hell it even frustrates me sometimes, but I can't make myself care.
I really can't.
Sure, I could be hanging out with friends (on the off chance that my father actually lets me, les be honest) or going to the movies, or sitting on Tumblr or Facebook like a normal person, thinking about how I'm going to look Monday, what I'm going to do for Prom in a year, or even how much I wanna kick ass at speech tomorrow....
But I'm not.
I'm thinking about how to rewrite Circuited (the first sentence. It needs to be hooking and it frustrates me to no end), or what's going to happen next in ID (got through most of 29 and now I seem to be at an impasse...) or even how I"m going to approach Ultimate Price.
I guess what I'm trying to say is what everyone, including me, already knows: I'm not normal.
I never was. I never will be. And I never can be.
It's now how I work. As much as this new town and these new people (okay so after nearly 6 years they're not so new anymore, I still think of them as such) have changed me, made me much more...box like, I know that I still don't tick the way society wants me to.
I'm That One Chick who gushes about books like other people gush about their crushes, and talk about Doctor Who & Star Wars & Sherlock, and about 93% of my mind is constantly spinning stories rather than paying attention to my surroundings--and yeah, sometimes I miss stuff.
The other day, in class, we were discussing how the transcendalists (probs misspelled. they're like 1800's hippies minus the weed), think that you shouldn't conform and yadda yadda and one of these firm beliefs was that you must do what you love. And if you don't do what you love, you're not living.
& I kind of sunk in my seat thinking: Dear God, I'm not living.
But I love writing. I smile like an idiot when I do it (unless it's not a smiley part. Sometimes, even then).
So yeah, I don't have an entertaining story about what I did last night or last weekend, but I have something better. Much better.
Okay, I'm not the conventional sixteen year old girl who spends her leisure time popping pimples and texting her friends/non-friends, but I'm so much more than that.
There's power in doing what you love because you love it.
What I'm trying to say is, basically, I'm a superhero. The really awesome kind, not the ones with the stupid names/costumes/powers.
I try to tell myself that it takes effort, but I mean ain't nobody got time to do that everyday. So clearly they're either a) robots sent from the Capitol to make us all feel inferior or b) naturally gorgeous.
As much as I"d love to entertain the former, clearly these girls are naturally just drop-dead gorgeous.
And then there's me.
With my deformed bun, my obvious acne because I'm-too-lazy-to-wear-make-up, and whatever random thing I threw on in my catatonic state this morning.
As I write this, I'm sitting in bed, my hair disheveled, in a my Wonder Woman 3/4's tee and some random grey pajama bottoms that might've once been one of my brothers', with my blankets wrapped around me.
I'm preparing myself for a write-a-thon (hopefully) as opposed to using my mini-break to I dunno hang out with friends and bask in each other's awesomeness like I guess everyone else does.
But no.
I have 0 social life. I look like something from Where the Wild Things Are almost every day of my life, and I'm a mess.
But you know what?
I don't care.
There are times when yeah, I feel like I should have straightened my hair and put on something cute and maybe about ten pounds of foundations, but the thing is...I give 0 fucks.
It frustrates my sister, my mother, probably everyone forced to look at me on the daily, and hell it even frustrates me sometimes, but I can't make myself care.
I really can't.
Sure, I could be hanging out with friends (on the off chance that my father actually lets me, les be honest) or going to the movies, or sitting on Tumblr or Facebook like a normal person, thinking about how I'm going to look Monday, what I'm going to do for Prom in a year, or even how much I wanna kick ass at speech tomorrow....
But I'm not.
I'm thinking about how to rewrite Circuited (the first sentence. It needs to be hooking and it frustrates me to no end), or what's going to happen next in ID (got through most of 29 and now I seem to be at an impasse...) or even how I"m going to approach Ultimate Price.
I guess what I'm trying to say is what everyone, including me, already knows: I'm not normal.
I never was. I never will be. And I never can be.
It's now how I work. As much as this new town and these new people (okay so after nearly 6 years they're not so new anymore, I still think of them as such) have changed me, made me much more...box like, I know that I still don't tick the way society wants me to.
I'm That One Chick who gushes about books like other people gush about their crushes, and talk about Doctor Who & Star Wars & Sherlock, and about 93% of my mind is constantly spinning stories rather than paying attention to my surroundings--and yeah, sometimes I miss stuff.
The other day, in class, we were discussing how the transcendalists (probs misspelled. they're like 1800's hippies minus the weed), think that you shouldn't conform and yadda yadda and one of these firm beliefs was that you must do what you love. And if you don't do what you love, you're not living.
& I kind of sunk in my seat thinking: Dear God, I'm not living.
But I love writing. I smile like an idiot when I do it (unless it's not a smiley part. Sometimes, even then).
So yeah, I don't have an entertaining story about what I did last night or last weekend, but I have something better. Much better.
Okay, I'm not the conventional sixteen year old girl who spends her leisure time popping pimples and texting her friends/non-friends, but I'm so much more than that.
There's power in doing what you love because you love it.
What I'm trying to say is, basically, I'm a superhero. The really awesome kind, not the ones with the stupid names/costumes/powers.
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