Misfit

I wore rounded shoes on a square tiled floor and tried to avoid the lines but I almost always never won.

I saw the floating cloud, so perfectly suspended like newly washed linen on a hanger, and I played games, made up.

I spoke too quickly, too loudly, always honestly. When no one was around.

I had these great conversations, in my head; with a different person everyday. You see, I quickly changed.

It wasn’t easy making friends, but it was harder still, to keep them. And that was a harsh lesson to learn.

I was not a genius, but I was good at a lot of things. And I found out, good was never enough.

I was neither sad, nor happy; I wasn’t lonely, although often I was alone.

I noticed peculiarities, and stared too long. Maybe, maybe everyone thought that I was finding faults. But I always looked in wonder.

I was a misfit. And I just wanted people to see me for who I was: A girl trying to fit in.

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