Clown

"She's just the clown behind a thick facade."

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2. Wallflower

I'm just gonna take a wild guess: You probably know the feeling of joy when people laugh about your jokes and funny puns. You probably know how good and comforting it can feel if your classmates are waiting to hear some more of your hilarious storys.

I used to feel like that, all of the time. I felt popular and loved. Most of all I felt accepted. But over the years, that feeling just went away. Which has nothing to do with the jokes I make, or that I got used to all of the people looking up to me. Because quiet frankly I'm not. I just started to think bad about myself. And soon enough, the feeling of joy and happiness, the feeling of being alive, just went away.

Now there's always just emptiness.

Which doesn't mean that I don't continue on being what people liked to call the 'schools most funniest student'. I didn't stop. I continued to make puns. I continued to sass teachers and hand them back their bums. I told funny storys, to whoever wanted to hear them. Just, I didn't feel the fun anymore.

My smiles were approximately as fake as Melissa Bauer's eyelashes. And looking into a mirror I saw nothing but dull and tired brown eyes, staring back at me. But no one else seemed to notice. To the students at my school, I was the funny one, the one who was never in a bad mood. Why would I be unhappy? There wasn't a single reason to.

This Monday, I was sat around one of the circular tables, a gaggle of people surrounding me and my best friend Erin, listening intently to my tale of last Saturdays events. Students errupted into laughter as soon as I finished talking, making me grin. I was so used to pulling fake smiles all of the time, and in every situation, that it soon became totally normal.

Biting into my apple, Julian came up to me, hugging me from behind.

"Hey babe" He breathed, his lips lingering on my neck a little too long.

"Hi." I chuckled before softly pushing his arms away from my body. I really liked Julian. He was a nice guy and he treated me well, but sometimes he just invaded my personal space. Crossing my comfort zone was a sensitive object. I didn't like to be touched too much. And Julian was exactly that, a toucher.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't all that popular and funny. I would've liked it better if I became one of the wallflowers, no one paid any attention too anyways. I'm so sad and disturbed sometimes that I can't help but think that this time, my friends will notice the rings under my eyes. Or the redness around my irises, from crying the night before.

A wallflower has it easy to cover up. They don't have standards to live up too. They don't have to smile and be happy all of the time. Wallflowers can have brakes of being fake. I would like a brake very much.

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