I've Always Been This Way

On the first day of 6th grade, my first period of the day was advanced science. Our first assignment was to draw a picture of a scientist and to present it. Since I was the first in my row, I was one of the first kids to present.

I held up my drawing to the class and said "Most of you probably drew the stereotypical geek in a lab coat, but I drew an average person examining sap samples under a microscope, because that's what Mrs. Gross said that we would do this year. Therefore, a scientist is anyone who performs science--and that could be any one of us."

I was expecting my class to find it profound, but like normal 6th graders they all just stared at me. I was at least proud of myself, but I was sad to have not gotten at least the standard applause.

The next student to present was John LaVelle. He held up his poorly drawn scientist and began "Well I just drew a geek in a lab coat..." He and I exchanged a look after that, and I know he had appreciated my scientist.  His look said "I wish I had had that idea first. I don't think you're weird; I admire your intelligence."

All it takes is one person, even if they aren't outspoken about their opinion at all, to let you know that your eccentrities are appreciated after all. Just one person can make you feel like you aren't hated by your whole 6th grade class. Just one person can let you know that you aren't worthless.

An Incomplete Puzzle

Something's missing and I don't know what it is. I have this mindset of exactly how I want my life to be: how it was back when I was perpetually happy. I know I'll never get that back, not all of those aspects. Some I'm trying too hard to replace, others can't be replaced.

I still feel something missing. The outline of the puzzle is there, but there's no middle. Rather, it feels like the pieces are all there but they're just grey and it doesn't make a picture--they mean nothing.

That's why the missing piece to my perfect life puzzle must be myself.

Shaded

You are like a cloud lingering above me,
Meant for light protection from the harsh sun
And when I look up and see your light airy wisps, it's supposed to make me smile.
It doesn't.
What would really make me smile is if you allowed the sun to pass through and shine on my face.
And you would interest me more if you were thicker or darker.
Gather more moisture to add to this cloud.
Perhaps you were a black, looming storm cloud that produced lightning?
That would provide me more pleasant light and warmth than the lovely horror you fail to shade me from.