#otherizing

(fervently, cautiously, EXPRESSIVE AS HECK)

“-I guess he was kind of awkward the whole time, but, you know…”

“No but your dress is really cute.”

NOW THEY’re TAKING SELFIES. SHOOT ME.

“That one was really good”

“Yeah” “Let’s go”

“Totes adorbs”

I don’t remember being so hateful of people. I like to rant about those conformists as a pet hobby. They’re naturally so, it’s the biggest facet of high school, trendy sameness. Trendy style, Jesus sandals, flannels, floral print skirts,— there’s no such thing as a decent, original, honest flannel anymore. Uggs are a stereotype. Trendy attitude, trendy personality, trendy way-that-you-carry-yourself, that endearing clumsy-confidence that’s consistent across the board “she’s so sweet” “she’s sooo funny.” Like what in the heck makes you know that? There are no differentiation factors. None. Just a slightly variations Pinterest-verified mold to fulfill. GREAT style is SAME style. People who comment on how good my style is just remind me that I’m the same as everybody else in the area. And I’m too terrified for it to be any other way. Those Immanuel girls… {redacted}, {redacted}, they intimidate the snot out of me, even though they aren’t really anything to reg on my social anxiety radar. I need to not be like the rest of them, which, I know I’m not, anyone witnessing me trying to stabilize a decent conversation would second that. I know it. I need t know it and be proud, grateful, and blessedly relieved that I didn’t succumb to the sameness.

Maybe, deep down, several layers inside the farthest, infinitesimal crumb-piece of their souls, there’s actually a real-life breathing person, not a mold, but a person, who has issues, anxieties, things that they take childish, giddy pride in, the things of passion and joie de vivre that matter. Somebody Catherine and I would hang out with. I pray that those people are like that, or will be like that, find themselves truly so they won’t be LIKE THAT ever again.

{end}