Inside the Mind of an Unpopular Freak

1

I watched the water dripping down my expressionless face, down my arms, and find a home in the towel wrapped loosely around my body. I starred at myself in the mirror of my parents' bathroom. Seated on the sink, I thought of what my life would be like If I was pretty. I was too skinny there, with to much fat there, yet it all was wrapped together with my ugly, old face. I guess I shouldn't say old. Fourteen is way to young to be called old. Yet the slight pimple on my chin and my dark under eyes would beg to differ. I would say fourteen yearolds are growing up way to fast nowadays. Just the fact that the boys in our grade actually celebrate "ass-grabbing day" speaks for itself, but that's a story for a later date.

I began to dry my hair and I pulled a strand of it out. My hair was a major target for jokes and laughter among my friends. Along with me being tall, thin, and awkward. The jokes they tell aren't supposed to be offensive, they usually aren't, but sometimes they hurt. I'm a firm believer in there's truth to every joke. So, even though I don't take most things personally, sometimes my brain keeps them as facts. Even though I'm extremely thin someone called me fat. From that day on I actually thought I was overweight. Everytime I looked in the mirror I saw someone ten times the size of me. Even though there's nothing wrong with a little junk in the truck, I was insecure about it. It took me years to realize I wasn't over weight and realize I was actually underwieght. I even went through a faze of calorie counting and not eating. Now don't get me wrong. I do not have an eating disorder. Even if that classifies as one I am no longer struggling with it. Even on days I have that false image of myself.

If you want your world to change, change your outlook. I know, I know everyone in the whole universe says that, but is it true? I feel everyday I try to be positive, I end up cringing at the fake energetic persona I take on. I wonder why anyone talks to me, if I met myself I would hate her. I guess I do though.

I looked back in the mirror with my "new positive outlook" But my opinion didn't change. I just walked out to my room. My room was a somewhat average size, probably more on the small side, but it was cozy. I layed in bed and thought of my first story to tell, so here you go.

Story 1:

It was a completely average school day, miserable and crappy, and I was walking to the bus. Now let's be honest the people on the bus are assholes, but the people you encounter on the way to the bus are probably worse. Besides the point, I was walking to the bus with a friend. Yes I know, I do have friends. Shocking. We were walking and it was pretty silent. And not silent in the hall, we just weren't talking, again, I'm awkward, what do you expect. As I was walking I felt someone behind me slightly grab my backpack. I ignored it, figuring it was nothing and kept walking. When I kept walking I felt the same person grab my arm, a little more aggressively. He put his head close to my ear, still holding my arm, and started moaning. It was probably quick to the real world, but everything in that moment felt slowed down. I pulled away and started walking faster. The friend I was walking with caught up with me. She didn't seem to hear what was going on. "Who was that guy?" She asked and I just shook my head. I didn't really know, but I also didn't really care. It's not like he grabbed my ass, or threaten me, i'm not saying its a big deal. But the suddenness of the action kind of scared me. It wasn't the first time I went through this though. It wasn't the first time I thought, "boys will be boys." It wasn't the first time I thought of the disgusting ways of straight males. The second story brings me back all the way to 7th grade, also known as the worst year of my life and not because of what I'm about to tell you. Again, this is a story for a later date.

Story 2:

This one is kind of short. Not much to it, I didn't really care, but I guess it's a great story to tell. I was at my locker. My locker was at the end of the row, so a lot of people must walk past my locker to get to there's. Anyways, I was standing and someone was squeezing past. Then I felt them ram into my back, probably on accident, and started moaning. I don't get why boys do this. Probably for a reaction. The shock factor, but I don't find it funny. I find it degrading and disgusting. Neither of these boys I find popular, or attractive. They almost seem like wannabe fuckboys. It's almost funny.

Back to Reality:

My first thoughts were there friends probably dared them to "scare ugly." Which is extremely irrational. My friends tell me I'm not ugly and try to complain about there isicurities like it would help. I'm not a hideous beast, but I don't find myself attactive. I try not to care about my appearance, but I do. Some people say the people that always look in the mirror are self-centered, but I think some are just insecure. I guess that's the first similarity between me and the popular kids.

We all just want to fit in.

Now you know the first though of the unpopular freak. She wants to fit in. Not that it's ever gonna happen. And not like this is the last thought. I have plenty to go around. Just you wait.