Counterfeit Popularity

I have never been considered popular. I’ve never been effortlessly cool.
I have never had anybody idolize me in any way.

I thought that made me inadequate. Not as good as girls I admired.

Not as good as the athletic girls who got picked for everything. The ones who have a natural competitive edge. Or the funny girls, the ones who keep the crowd laughing. Or the smart girls, who are studious and focused. Or the pretty girls, who despite any other shortcomings will always come out on top. Or the bad girls, the girls who have all  the fun.  But even worst, a wonderful combination of the above.

I have loved and despised them all.

I was always a little awkward. That girl that fell over her own feet. Clumsy and unsure. eec318a2ceb98027b3ae08ae6e5b1047.jpg

I am the girl that loves children’s literature, and young adult novels. Despite desperately wishing I liked biographies and non fiction. I don’t.

As a rule, I will warmly greet a dog before I would initiate contact with another human.

I struggle with babies. They don’t like me and I don’t like them. The feeling is mutual.

I hate exercise, being uncoordinated makes it difficult to play team sport or excel at anything physical.

I close my eyes when I dance because I’m pretending to be on stage performing to millions.

When I laugh, I laugh with everything inside me. Too loud, too high, too piercing, too funny to care.

These are some of the small things that make me an original. Never on trend.

I’ve recently decided to embrace all parts of me. The part that attempts the high trills in every Mariah song, the part that twerks every morning despite having no bum to speak of, the part that will drink $6 wine alone on a Tuesday and the part of me that dreams.

I embrace the part of me that is a shameless flirt, the part that sleeps under 3 blankets and may still shiver, the part that gets easily rattled, the part that defends the underdog and the part that wants nothing more than to retire in a library full of old books.

I’m not the girl that tells jokes, or the girl who could be ‘homecoming queen‘ or the honor student.

With all the gifts I was born with I always wanted what another had, a cooler talent. Over the years I tried to acquire those gifts that did not come innately. And for a time I did well.

I now see it as counterfeit popularity.

I like who I am more now that I’ve shed the image. I’m no longer holding up the facade of someone more polished. A more refined version of myself.

I can’t be boxed into a category. I’m strokes of colours, a mix and combination, I am day & night. I’m not a type.

Now I wonder, how many of them felt the same?

Are we all  a sisterhood, feeling out of place?

Well sister, I’d like to introduce myself. For real this time.


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