I’m jeolous of anyone who feels at home in a crowd of strangers. I really am.
I’m envious of the way you can be so damn weird and not care about what anyone thinks.
I don’t hate you. I don’t hate people. I just find it extremely difficult to be myself in a crowd.
If you should see me out and about, odds are good that I’ll be alone, looking awkward, leaning against a wall or in a corner. I’m the kid that wished I could eat lunch in the restroom. I’m the kid that maybe got good grades, maybe was in speech and drama and maybe hoped I could fit in somewhere. And maybe I do, but truthfully, I never feel like I do.
I’m jealous that you do.