8. Who I Was
I sat on the floor, knees slightly bent and elbows resting on top of them. I held my phone in my hands, the phone that had caused my first fight with Katrina. But don't expect me to just roll over and try to become friends with that boy. I won't just fake it for fame. That's the one thing I've always taken pride in about me. I'm real. What you see is who I am. There is nothing fake about me. Nothing at a-
I cut off that thought as I glanced in the mirror lying across from me. The reflective breakable silver seemed to disagree. I set my phone on the ground and took a deep breath before looking at my reflection. My entire outfit was coordinated. My top matched my bottoms, which matched my socks. The purple and blue even matched my shoelaces and my hair pins. I had even applied purple eyeshadow with a slightly blue tint to it, as well as blue mascara. What had happened to me-the me who didn't care? A few days ago, when I first saw the shadow in the bushes I was wearing an old orange t-shirt, black and white striped baggy shorts, one christmas socks, and one multi-colored striped sock on the other foot. my hair was in a loose pony, slightly to the left, and some of my hair was falling out. I look better now, but I was so much happier before. I miss when I wasn't trying to impress that shadowy figure. He turns out to be someone a lot of girls would be glad they had tried impressing, but I had a different way of thinking. Anyone that you have to spend your whole life trying to impress simply isn't worth impressing. If he didn't like who I was, so be it. Because that's not just who I was. It's who I am. I shook out my hair, allowing it to fall out of place. My part now went somewhat diagonal. I showered and put on some jean shorts that went down to the middle of my thighs (a length most girls would consider long) and a semi baggy t-shirt that showed my supporst to the Detroit Tiger's baseball team. I put on one orange sock with a yellow sun on it and one black sock with a picture of a wand that said, 'welcome to the wizarding word' on it. I had washed off my makeup and now only applied a little bit of mascara-for me, not to impress anyone else-and pulled my hair back into a braid. I looked in the mirror, satisfied. I am back to being who I was.