Helping Them To Understand, (short story post)

So one day I was thinking how good it would be to be a overcomer of my childhood depression from always being different. I was always told that I was a stuck-up and a know it all. I only wanted to be myself. I did not want to be somebody else. Why would people laugh about me and my odd style. I liked to dress up and look nice myself. I always tried to put my hair up in a low ponytail so I could be different. I even put a bow in sometimes. I liked to wear all kinds of styles of clothes and different colors of shoes, mostly black or white. I didn’t say mean things to other kids or adults, at least if I did I said sorry for it. There were some girls that wore black all the time. I never really got it until my late Jr high years that they really wanted to be different. However some of them became my friends; until I moved away and found some that were even better because they were like half sisters that were still connected despite all their differences. They were really best friends and they added me to their circle. I felt so popular. It was almost like it was never going to change only in bits and pieces of my life. Now the new ones I had were funny one liked country music, the other liked rock more. I bet they had some interesting days picking on each other. It was boys against girls in a way, just a funny game we played and no harm. (To be continued)

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