When the Voice in your Head is a Liar

I looked at the spiral bound notebook sitting open on her desk and read the words she had written for her eyes alone to see.  I recognized and resonated with each statement she had written and circled, as if each one held its own place of prominence in her mind. Yet as I looked at her, I knew we were different. I couldn’t put my finger on it until years later. Was it that I was cooler? No way, I shuffled the halls of high school feeling like the misfit I still am. I was not cool enough for the popular kids nor nerdy enough for the smart kids. This of course left me with few alternatives. I could remain a misfit through high school, quit school altogether or hang out with the other misfits on the fringe. Actually I did all three, but that is a story for another day.

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