A Few Disclaimers.

I Am Not Cool.

I've tried, especially around actual cool people, but it never works out in my favor and usually only makes me look like a complete idiot.  I've basically resolved myself to just letting me be the weird one of the group. There were only two times in my life where I had somehow convinced everyone around me that I was a super cool cat, worthy of their focus, admiration, and time. THE FIRST was way back in 8th grade when I had magically caught the heart of a sophomore boy, despite my uncontrollable eyeliner, horrid braces, and boyishly short, spiky hair. Somehow, this squirrely little weirdo managed to unintentionally trick a huge community of rebellious misfit teenagers that I was The Shit. 

It was a wonderful part of my otherwise traumatizing adolescent youth. I enjoyed walking though the hallways and having other people actually know my name, rather then just calling me "that emo girl". Yeah, I was THAT girl. It was nice to have a lot of "friends", and be a part of a large group that was basically it's own version of a family. I continued to be a part of this family of outcasts long after my short-lived popularity died out, and to this day I care for each of those people as if it were yesterday that we were running a muck around the Valley. But I'll save those stories for another time.

THE SECOND was a few years later durning my first Senior year. (Yes, I did the five year plan. BUT I sucked it up and went everyday, and I got my diploma, so SUCK IT.) Any who, I was 17 years old, one of the few of my friends who had a car at the time, and I was dating a 21 year old guy who had his own place. Basically, it was hard NOT to believe that I was cool. Am I right? Honestly, I worked hard for that small period of infamous stardom. I was throwing parties at my boyfriend's house, and giving rides left and right. Everyone had my number, and they used it constantly. I became "mom" of the group, and everyone wanted me around because I was nice enough to get along with anyone (even if I really didn't like them), and I always made sure every single one of my friends was safe, and NOT stripping on top of any vehicles. EVER. It was exciting and completely exhausting. By the end of that year, half the group graduated, and the other half got their own cars. I was free to quietly sink back into my turtle shell, and thankful for some quiet and boring nights.

I Am A Very Small Weirdo.

I have always been a small person. Besides when I was an infant... I believe I was a very average baby. I always knew I was small, but it didn't quite hit me until one day in the 3rd grade. Mrs.Smith (I'm making up names here) had everyone in the class line up, and she measured each of our heights on a large, laminated ruler on the wall, writing our names by our measurements. When she finished marking the last kids height on the ruler, we all eagerly crowded around to examine it. Mostly, everyone was fixated on Jake's name because it soared above everyone else's at around 5 ft. 3rd grade, remember. Jake was super tall, and everyone was impressed, including quiet, shy, and weird little me. I wasn't exactly the class star in elementary school. I was horrified to speak to anyone who didn't somehow manage to make friends with me, which basically made me an awkward loner. That being said, it was completely traumatizing when one of the kids pointed out that my name had plummeted to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, way below everyone else's. I was so embarrassed, and instantly wished I could loose every inch I had grown, and disappear completely. 

Since then, I have grown to love my smallness. It's actually one of my favorite parts about me, physically. Sometime in middle school though, I surpassed my step-sisters height. She is a year older than me. I was PISSED.

I Have A Great Memory: You Have Been Warned.

This kooky little brain of mine has a built in filing cabinet, full to the brim with ALL the memories, good and bad. I remember everything. I remember the girl in preschool who threw rocks at me until I threw them back, and then cried and got me in trouble. I remember that bitch that stole my best friend in second grade. I remember the girl who bullied me until 7th grade. (May she truly Rest In Peace.) I remember the people who created rumors about me, and the royal backstabbing I got from one of my closest friends. I have 100% forgiven, but I CANNOT forget. I remember the VERY loud verbal abuse from my almost step-father, as a child. 

Just because we cross paths in public, and I smile while making polite small talk with you, doesn't mean I've forgotten whatever dick move you pulled on me in the past. Can't you see the crazy, "I know what you did last summer", look coming out from behind my eye? You can't fool me.