Debut: The Story

i. a place in this world

I THINK I was the only one who noticed that this high school in particular, was quite stereotypical.

Not just the fact that only specific groups hung out with each other. That was supposed to be just in the movies, but it seemed everybody wanted to mimic the dumb blondes and tough bad boys. 

It felt like I was the only one alone and on my own. I didn't have many friends, maybe if I mimicked the popular cheerleaders and confident football players I'd gain some, but I wanted someone to accept me just how I was. Shimmying awkwardly to the radio, wearing my old blue jeans and my heart on my sleeve. 

Which was a bad idea, because mostly everyone who wore their heart on their sleeve got it crushed. 

I bopped to Tim McGraw while fixing my blond curls into a messy ponytail, tossing my bag over my shoulder and my books clutched in my other hand. 

I began the hot, dreary walk to school, which I normally dreaded, but today I was cheery 'cause of Tim McGraw. The sunshine beamed on my face, and I felt I was radiating luckiness.

One thing I wasn't sure of, was what I wanted. I've talked about stereotypes. But the thing is what everyone expects out of those. They expect the football players to go in the big leagues and the nerds to go to prestigious colleges. What the authority figures in all our lives didn't understand was:

None of us knew what we wanted. Ever since kindergarten, we were asked what we wanted. And we still were, all the time. But I think that you shouldn't ask us that early, or ask us at all because we're still trying to figure it out.

Myself personally, I was just walking down the sidewalk, down the road of life, hoping to reach the end where I'd know everything, see through the rain and fog. 

I knew in most situations like these I wasn't the only one who felt the way I do. But I really did feel like I was alone and on my own.

I had no friends to ground me, support me. No goals pushing me forward, except the asking of my parents to get decent grades in my classes. And my love for my guitar. 

I wondered what else I needed to get people to like me. I had my jeans, sunshine and luckiness, and my music taste. Maybe if I tried a little harder, every tomorrow would be a thrilling mystery instead of a mystery that you don't even care to find out. Sometimes I couldn't even bear to get up in the morning.

But I was a girl on a mission, I thought to myself as I skipped to school.

To not be alone and on my own anymore. I'll make a vow: to put myself out there, out the comforting little box with all the favored materials that made me feel safe with its childhood nostalgia, my guitar, my music, my favorite pairs of jeans. I needed to grow up.

Sure, I was just a girl. But it couldn't be too difficult to make friends. To form bonds with other human beings. I'm sure there's someone out there who shares the same soulful love of music I do. The same weirdness and oddness.

A sunshine smile matching my golden hair in the sunlight etched across my face. Dreaming dancing to music together, late night sleepovers, strange inside jokes. 

I was ready to fly, to spread my wings to opportunities. 

Today, I was open to hope. I'd find the bravery to not be anti-social, to be strong. And the acceptance that comes with being wrong, because not every person is made for each other.

Life goes on, after all.

I'd try to find my place in this world.

I was certain I'd succeed this time.