Okay, I know that this would normally be downgraded by an editor, but seeing as I am the editor, I do what I want.

Also, I need to explain something to the universe before my high school career ends. This is mostly because every time these next few topics come up in conversation, people are suddenly shocked and utterly confused. So let me just set some things in stone (I’m a riot).

First off, no, I don’t like children. Put simply, I matured rather early because of loneliness and a few stressful family conditions. Luckily, my first middle school was such a torture chamber that I moved to Kinard mid-year where I met my current, fabulous friends. Present day, there are about four of them that I trust to be mature adults. Other than that group of four, my peers have been consistently immature in and out of the classroom. My learning has been impeded, I have watched teachers being disrespected, and I have seen kids wrecking their futures for current satisfaction. More than anyone else, kids don’t appreciate the things they have or the things others do for them. They don’t understand the lengths adults go to on their behalf or how emotional wounds work. The only things that last to them are in the physical realm, when in truth it’s the spiritual realm that matters in the long run.

Secondly, yes, I like fire. My friends are always doubly surprised when I mention this other quirk about me. I burned things in my backyard; small things like leaves and twigs and paper, all the while pretending I was stranded in the wild and trying to keep warm and collect berries. As I have recently learned, this is not normal for a little girl. Let’s also take into account all the candles I keep in my room and the occasional burning of the corner of a sticky note. Recently, at my friend’s farm house, we made a bonfire in her fire pit and I kept getting really close and getting distracted by the embers. At this, I’ve been mocked as being a pyromaniac, as if I’m a future arsonist. Of course, this isn’t in the least bit true; I think my fascination with fire is perfectly normal. We should all be fascinated with life. Even small, dramatic bursts of it. Perhaps those most of all.

Those two things are all I have to say. I could add that I’m afraid of long hallways, but no one really cares what I fear. I’m full of emotions like joy and sorrow and fear, so the only exciting aspects of me are the unexpected. My love for a destructive element and my detestation of those innocent little bundles are, indeed, unexpected. But from a person, who never ever fits inside the same mold as another, what else are you expecting?