So, I’m that crazy, random chick everyone gives a sideways glance (or an open stare) at in the hallways. There’s no way you could miss me even though I’m usually quieter than a ninja-mime. That’s me now, in the first semester of my first freshman year at Brandeis High School. But let me go back and tell you about my life thus far.

For my first major event, I was born. Yes, that actually happened to me. Crazy, I know. Anyway, at the age of three or something, I entered kindergarten but being the stupid stupid-heads whoever they were were, I wasn’t allowed into first grade at the age of four. So there I go, off to “advanced kinder” because repeating something I already know would be weird. I don’t know what to scoff at more, though, a four year old in first grade or an advanced kindergarten. But whatever; they actually have that and I did it.

After genius kindergarten, I went to a little private school at the age of five or six or something. All I remember is that I was six, in a brand new school, and my parents were getting a divorce. WARNING: THIS IS IN NO WAY A CALL FOR PITY! IT’S JUST LIFE AND I’M JUST TELLING IT LIKE IT HAPPENED! SO SHUT UP, I DON’T WANT NOR DO I NEED SYMPATHY OR CONSOLATION! Thank you. Anyway, that was also the same year as the whole terrorists/9-11 thing. Most people can tell you exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard about it. I didn’t even know that anything like that happened until like third grade or something. All I remember is taking a day to observe it in seventh grade. I had a strange literature teacher who assigned sad books and read us a poem that described real events on 9-11. I really liked that teacher. He was really cool.

Next major event: eighth grade graduation. I can’t even think of words to tell you how happy I was to get out of that little school and go to a huge school. I graduated in the top five smartest kids out of a class of about 50-60. I was so happy to leave, though. I would, of course, miss my friends like Man Hands, Ginger Girl, Secret Agent (she actually left in sixth grade but I still miss her), Quiet Insane Girl, Churros, Panda Nerd (she left in seventh grade), Book Worm (often called Onion, she left in fifth grade), Bubbly Girl, Not-Even-Fair Artist Girl (she was really good at art), Gaming Geek, Jolly Green Giant, Crazy Child, and pretty much everyone else. But anyway, they were all gone after graduation. So sad.

The summer flew by with not nearly enough outings with my friends and the first day of high school crept up. I never once got lost in the huge school, though; I thought I did several times. The first few days were very lonely without any friends and I missed my little private school desperately. Then, one day, like a brilliant ray of happiness to shine through my day, Bubbly Girl waved at me from a far off lunch table. Thank God in Heaven for a bright friend in all the darkness. I finally had a real friend.

I’m so happy with a real friend but I could have many more if I wanted them. Though, I believe if I told my dad and/or brother, they would freak out because all the people (save for two) that have randomly come and talked to me were boys.

Yes, it is quite apparent that many boys have turned their heads my way whether it is jokingly or really interested. Apparently, it is my “attractive” hair. Two rather old, creepy teachers have told me that, meaning one thing and actually saying another. But anyway, there are two boys that I wouldn’t mind their interest in me. One I will call Emo Boy for lack of better description. He is quiet and has few friends as far as I can see. But he does just so happen to stare at me almost every morning. I fear, though, that he hates me now due to my “brilliant ray of happiness” that got the brilliant idea to steal his spot while he was away. This act gave us, in return, death glares from two girls who happen to be his friends. Thank you Ray of Happiness, thank you.

In the other hand, there’s Geometry. He is a wonderful boy in my Honors Geometry class. I just so happen to pretty much love him and one day he finally talked to me when he was very rudely told to pretty much back off by a large boy who has plenty of experience tackling people. Wonderful. My life is ruined. Thanks to all who have ruined my life, including me.

But it might just be me because I think I have the plague or something. One boy, justly called Kitty Cat, has also stopped all communication with me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This boy confessed his love for me and later meowed at me in the hall. Every once in a while, he would say or do something just to mess with me in the hall. It was quite entertaining but, of course, since I have some kind of plague, he won’t talk to me either. The social plague isn’t helping my chances with the other cute fish in the sea either. Now it appears, people will talk to me, find out I have some horrible social disease, and never speak to me again. And the whole time, I’m sitting here going, “WHAT DISEASE??? IS IT A SOCIAL DISEASE? SORRY I’M ANTISOCIAL BUT COME ON! I DON’T HAVE THE PLAGUE, DANGIT!” Apparently, no one can hear me.