This Is Me

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I stare in the mirror. My face stares back. It is one-hundred percent make up free. My hair is frizzy and out of control. They always tell me that if I put some mascara on, if I straightened my hair, I would look pretty. 
They say that if I liked the same horrible music that they dance to and sing along with at school dances, I'd have good taste in music. 
They say that if I wore the same clothes they do, I'd have good style. 
They say that if I had a Facebook, I'd be a social butterfly, and everyone would love me. 
They say that if i lose a few pounds, people will stare at me for different reasons. 
They say that if I smoke weed with them in the parking lot at eleven-thirty, I'll be cool. 
They say that if I date the quarterback of the football team, I'd be half of the cutest couple in school. 
They say that if I were exactly like them, I'd be... Amazing. Beautiful. Popular. 
But I wouldn't be original. So screw them. 
If I want to go out without having to spend an hour in front of the mirror, I will. 
If I want to dance around singing show tunes, I will. 
If I want to wear that cute skirt and combat boots, I will. 
If I want to actually talk to my friends to their faces, I will. 
If I want to have a second piece of cake, I will. 
If I have better things to do on my weekends than get arrested, I will. 
If I want to date the cooky, smart, funny guy in my AP English class, I will. 
But what I won't do is become one of you. I won't change who I am to hang out with a bunch of girls who think that they're  the best. News flash: you're not the best. Well, if you are the best, so are your five best friends, because they are exact clones of you. 
I am me. Take it or leave it. 





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