Stinging, burning, and wet

    The title sounds a bit racy, if you catch my drift, but it's nowhere close to what you're thinking about. Stinging, burning, and wet are my eyes as I try to hold back the tears. Now you're thinking I'm a total drama queen, and I probably am sometimes. But, hey, a girl's got the right to complain and whine once and a while. Just be thankful that I'm blathering to a computer and not to you in real life.

    So, why the tears? Nothing, really. Nothing that should matter, but it did. Winter Formal is fast approaching—why hasn't anyone asked me yet? Flowers, flowers, flowers are all I see, and all I hear are the screaming, giggling, whispering of the other girls as they excitedly recount who is going to the dance with whom. I laugh with them, while wondering, "Why hasn't anyone asked me yet?" And the most gnawing question: what is wrong with me? I understand I am definitely not the prettiest girl in the world, but I am definitely not ugly. I understand I am definitely not the smartest girl in the world, but I am definitely not stupid. People say I am quirky, bubbly, and easy to talk to. What am I missing? I am still forgotten. I worked so hard not to be, but I still end up forgotten…

    Some of the new friends I have made find it hard to believe that I used to extremely shy. So shy that I used to afraid even to ask the teacher to use the restroom. It sounds ridiculous, but it was true. I was always picked close to last when my classmates chose groups for a project, and I rarely made eye contact. I was forgotten and I realized it.

    Debate camp changed everything for me. The students in the camp were loud, obnoxious, and swore liberally. During class, they argued with the instructors and they dared to ask to use the restroom while the teacher lectured. No one thought they were strange, though. Those that were especially loud actually had more friends. Because of their ridiculousness, I became more comfortable with myself, and, as a result, I gradually became the bubbly person with the contagious laughter.

    But it's not enough and I don't understand why. I don't understand why I always have to watch my male friends giving flowers to other girls or my girl friends receiving flowers from other guys. Where are my flowers?

    The only conclusion I seem to be able to reach is that I haven't really changed—I'm still hiding. I realize, though, that I can't be waiting for people to find me. I have to shine a light on myself. I have to take control. Too bad there's only one girls' choice dance each year.


Picture credits: http://www.alltimeflower.com/Product/PM03.jpg