“You’re weird,” The girl said. I knew she meant it as a joke. So I smiled light-heartedly.
“Thanks!” I replied. She gave me an odd look and walked away. My smile faded. Person after person told me over and over what I already knew. That I was different, I was weird. I took it as a joke each time. And I began calling myself weird. Not as an insult, but as an inside joke me and my friends all shared.
“I’m weird, don’t judge me,” I would say with a barely concealed smile. We would all burst out laughing.
I’m weird. So what?
Prose
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This was my entire life in middle school. No matter how much I joked and accepted the name, it always still hurt a little.
Knowing that I’m not the only one makes me feel so much better!