I had this natural knack, back in my awkward middle-school years, at being both ignorant, and uninterested in modern trends. While everyone was doing their hair and indulging themselves in the latest chick flicks, I was left wondering if The Doctor was going to survive the next episode or not. It could be said that it was my dad's fault that my first crush wasn't Channing Tatum or Alex Pettyfer; that it was Ewan McGregor, from Star Wars. I could have, but I didn't. It was only fair that eventually I would realize that not only was my introvert shyness a turn away for most people, my love of stereotypical 'geek' paraphernalia kept me from becoming good friends with a lot of people. They would pat me on my head, call me "cute", and "crazy", then be on their way.
It was some where around here that I met someone who was to be my best friend for another five or six years. It was the oddest friendship.
She did dance, and was incredibly good at it. Had dreams of becoming professional and all that. She was also in the "in crowd". A crowd, I hadn't yet realized, that would never accept me. Still, we became great friends over certain subjects (as is the way of a tweens) and life continued to spin despite our inherent differences.
Then the fatal day happened.
One afternoon, on one of those awkward Homeschool "Show and Tell" things (an excuse for the moms to hang out while we played out side) took place at my home. My mom hosted, so after an entire morning of relentless cleaning, I was looking forward to hanging out with my Irish Dance friend (we'll go ahead and call her Grace for the purposes of this post). See, because Grace was in the in-crowd, I was left with a harrowing choice every show and tell. Do I hide in the corner, or brace myself against the popular girls in order to hang out with Grace.
I decided that day that it was worth hanging out with Grace.
Everything was going smoothly until Grace approached me from where she had been playing with a couple of other girls. The girl, one in particular who hadn't really liked me from the beginning, watched on from a distance. I was uneasy, but let Grace pull me away from the group. Little did I know what this would change.
"You know," she said, "My friend just told me that she thinks you're immature. You know, kind of babyish."
I understand now that this was simply kid drama. At the time, my heart dropped. I was already a loser, and now the popular girl thought I was too little to be bothered with.
Good-naturedly, I shrugged it off, but did my best to avoid that girl in the future. Grace was annoyed, we were both decent friends of hers, because we had a hard time hanging out in the same room together. Some drama happened, but every time she introduced me to one of her friends the same thing seemed to keep happening. I was growing frustrated with myself, no one else at fault but myself.
It was hilariously fun trying to get along with both of them at the same time.
It all ended up boiling down to the fact that my obsessions were Star Wars and Phantom of the Opera, not Nicholas Sparks. I spent several years trying to mold myself into that group. Everything was upsetting, and nothing was fun anymore.
Everyone I knew that I was trying to be friends with were trying to accept me, but they always felt that I was childish for liking my nerdy things. Maybe I was, but I just didn't see myself as someone like them. Grace knew that, and tried to help me fit in with her, but I turned her down.
Eventually, at some point during Freshman year, I started flaunting my nerdiness like a bonus card for life that would get me extra points or something. Grace was somewhere in my life, not close anymore, leaving me emotionally destroyed. Her friendship was like taking a bullet when it left. I was desperate, and no one was understanding me. Was it ok to be this nerdy? I was blaming myself for the destroyed friendship, and kicking myself for not trying to fit in better.
Fandoms are funny like that. When you feel most alone you come across that one show that happens to have an emotional appeal for the emptiness you feel. Because, despite whatever society says, nerdiness is still unacceptable today. I still have a hard time finding people who like the same things as me, or don't think I'm weird because I like Hawkeye over Mr. Darcy. It's a struggle, one I kind of used to single myself out. I wasn't a happy tween, I honestly wasn't. And anything that I could use to fuel that sadness was great for me; I didn't realize the pain that came with that though. That I would miss so many great friends because I didn't like them for thinking my likes foolish.
I didn't give them the opportunity to like me for me; instead of allowing them to see me outside of my interests.
I guess what I'm trying to say is hang in there. Just because someone doesn't share the same interests, or makes fun of you because of yours, doesn't mean you can't get along with them. Doesn't mean you're alone forever. Open your wings, and be amazed at what you accomplish. Things might seem condescending and personal at the moment, but you'll always pull through. Humans are kind of cool like.
I know I am strong.
My heart has been tortured, tested, drawn, whipped, and wasted.
Yet it still continues to beat the same rhythm.
Gwen Keller
