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I don’t know who I think I am yet. And I’m not completely sure that’s a good thing.

Some moments I am normal, and I can safely call myself sane, and overall a person. Others I feel more like crudely Photoshopping my face on to stuff.



They’re grrrrrreat!!!! Wait… wrong cereal



I don’t know how or in what way to deal with that. And I don’t think a way to will be clear anytime soon. Today in school, I wore my panda hat and scarf to school, and throughout the entire recess I felt obliged to the thought of randomly becoming a hipster. So the whole time I was talking about new vegan diet plans and Starbucks. I am a cool kid.

And other times, I am the saddest person in the world. If I start being happy my mind immediately reminds myself that I’m supposed to be sad right now, and it starts up again and I’m the saddest person in the world. It’s like if you put dead hens in to a blender and mixed it up with lemon juice that is what the feeling is like. Even right now while typing about it I’m laughing because of how dumb it may sound.

A new one that I have uncovered recently is me being on the edge. During math time in school, I completely forgot about what was doing and instead inverted my intentions from converting fractions of percentages to trying to get the attention of Lucas and then wear my panda hat to the side of my head like you can find most kids whose permanent thoughts are set on football or shorts, and say ‘I eat Reece’s Puffs.’ And then spend the rest of the period staring at the wall contemplating the choices I’ve made in my short life.

Finally, a lot of the time I am excessively happy- for no reason. This happens to me for at least 30 minutes in a day where I am looking at the clouds, thinking, ‘What nice clouds! That cloud is shaped like a happy puppy who got adopted by 2 nice old people who used to be in a biker gang until they realized their hips weren’t in it.’ And then I continue that thought, until I snap out of it and become a normal human being.


I don’t honestly think I’m normal at this point. Or ever will be. And that’s fine by me, because I’ve done an exceptional job at accepting this fact. I’m probably only normal for about 1 hour per day, and that’s pretty much the maximum. And maybe that explains how I got myself and 2 others in to a massive argument about who is the Lorax when I suddenly got obsessed with this picture and sent it to a group chat with the tagline, ‘I am the Lorax.’


Ah, well. I guess I’ll just go back to binge-watching The X Files on Netflix.