32.

I was sitting on the bus on the way home alone, just listening to the static bus radio and watching people disperse from school. I saw the girl hugging the stomach of her boyfriend and laughing giddily, i saw the effortlessly cool and chic girl, walking powerfully away with her band mates, wind in her hair, that wasn't manufactured. I saw the badass throw behind him a can as him and his friends slouched to the oh-so-popular hang out. And then there was me, the kid riding the bus home with intense cramps and no idea what she was doing. It then hit me that i wasn't part of a stereotype. I suppose that's what i always wanted. I wanted to be different, to be the girl who gets along with everyone and - i do. Every person i saw walking out of that school i have been friends with, every one of them share memories in my heart. But there was an odd stereotypical longing to belong in a tight wound group that shared something more than classes and common interests. I wanted a quirk that made me a stereotype, so i was definable. But i'm not definable except for the ever classic :insane or "nice". and I'm not a stereotype. In a stereotypical world, like on a yellow school bus watching, that mentality takes over. Like a veil in an old sitcom. 

Thoughts, V.