For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and for these two, their lives have been planned down to a science.
For Wylan Olson, being yourself can be very stressful. Since she was young, her emotions have always been backwards. The e...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There are many different emotions, and they're all specific to certain feelings that we have. They give our lives a little bit more color and pop. Imagine a life the wrenching pain that comes with rejection, the elation that gives you mile wide smiles, and the bubbly nervousness you feel as you develop a crush. I imagine that's not very appealing to anyone, even if you are backwards.
Now I must clarify that, I do feel. Like most girls my age, I feel things deeply and vividly on the inside, but we differ in that when they would be crying their eyes out, you might find me somewhere chuckling hysterically. We feel the same pain; we just have different ways of exhibiting that pain. That's what it means to be backwards.
The light from my computer shined in my face as I navigated the webpage using the fluorescent cursor.
I'm a glutton for punishment.
I had final exams scheduled for the next day, and instead of sleeping how I'd planned to, here I was on Tumblr. I accepted the fact that I probably wouldn't be able to grasp my pencil by morning as I continued to scroll. I lazily checked the time and tried not to choke on the pencil eraser in my mouth as I realized it was two o'clock in the morning.
My excuse was that I was trying to find the perfect DIY graduation party decorations for my cousin. My search had become successful as I hopped from under my covers and did a celebratory dance. You would've thought that my puppy had just died. Alas, it was just a very nice texture that complimented the- oh, wait, you don't care about that.
Everything started blurring together, so I threw my glasses on the bed as well.
Nothing a little caffeine can't fix. I tip toed to the kitchen with my dog, Poppet, following closely behind me.
As I pushed kinky pieces of hair out of my vision, I searched through the refrigerator. My tank top and basketball shorts weren't doing much to shield me from the cool air. It was January and the fridge gave me a nice chill.
"Wy, what are you doing?" I heard a voice behind me, and I almost peed on myself. I could hear my heart drumming in my ears. This was beginning to feel like a scene straight out of Mission Impossible.
I took a deep breath, looking at the small figure in the kitchen doorway, "I was getting Poppet a treat. Why are you up?"
I already knew the answer to that. Tyra just wanted to be nosy, and I just wanted to see if she'd admit it.
She giggled, "Poppet eats food out of the refrigerator, Wy?"
For six-years-old, I had to give her major props. Not many little kids I know could identify fallacies that well, especially at two o'clock in the morning...probably because they were sleeping at two in the morning.
"What do you want anyways, Ty?"
She looked up at me, rubbing her large, prodigious eyes furiously before me. She was so adorable and annoying.
