Someone like you.

I am needy.
In all honesty, I am truly a needy person, though I don't always show it. You see, I need love. I need affection. I need people to care -- but I would deny all of it a million times over if you were to ask me. I don't like people seeing that side of me. I don't want people to think of me as the needy girl who has self-esteem issues and would rather listen to her ipod on a Saturday night and spend the evening writing in her blog than go to some vomit-stained highschool party. I don't want people to see that. Yet, at the same time, I do. I don't want to be labeled and categorized just like every other highschooler on the face of the earth. I want to be different, but I don't know how to be.
To truly stand out in life, you need to be incredible at something. You need to have some truly amazing talent, or just be graced with beauty beyond words. You need something that will set you apart from the other 6 million people on this earth. I have been gifted with neither beauty nor talent, and I have learned to accept that. I am neither amazingly gifted nor am I amazingly beautiful. I am average.
Nobody ever said there was anything wrong with being average, but nobody ever said there was anything right about being average either. When you are average, you blend in. It is as if you were born with camouflage skin that will hide you from the eyes of society for the short time you spend on earth. When you feel as if people look right through you, when you see people look right through you, you realize that you have undoubtedly been given the unfortunate gift of camouflage skin. At least, that's the way I like to see it.
People all around me tell me I have the potential to be somebody important one day. They all say that I'll go off to college, get a good degree, find some well paying job and retire early. I cannot even count the number of times I have heard that prediction for my future. I would like to believe that this is indeed the case, but there is one tiny flaw in everyone else's theory for my future. What exactly will make me, the girl with camouflage skin, turn into somebody so important? I have yet to find an answer to this question. If there is indeed an answer to this question, I would like to know what it is. I would honestly like to know what in the world makes people think I will ever be somebody. Truthfully, I would like to know.
I have no talent. Really, I don't. I can put words together to form sentences that flow as smooth as a river, but that means nothing. I can use pencils and paper and paint to recreate something I've seen, but that means nothing. I can aim a camera and I can photoshop a picture to perfection, but it is nothing than a cover for the things I can't do. I use pictures and elegant words to manipulate people's senses, and fool people into believing that I am somebody. That I am somebody worth knowing, someone they could see themselves being friends with. That I am somebody they could trust with their secrets and somebody that will change their life. That I am somebody who will go far in life. That maybe, just maybe, I have the potential to be somebody -- but that is simply not the case. I have no real talent that will get me anywhere beyond college. I can pass almost any test given to me in highschool with flying colors, but what does that really mean? That I can memorize formulas and words and answer a few questions? I suppose it means I have a good understanding for a vast majority of things, which I do, but how does that classify me as being somebody material?
I see things. I absorb them. I understand.
But will that be enough to get me through life?
I guess what I'm really looking for is reasoning. Why me? Why am I the girl with camouflage skin? Why am I the girl who people see doing great things? Why am I the girl who gets bashed for the only thing I'm good at? Oh yeah, that's right. I am good at one thing, if you haven't caught on. I'm good at school (and understanding people, yet I can't seem to understand myself). School. That's basically it. I can answer questions and pass tests and take harder courses than most kids my age and older than I. This, though, is not a talent. It is simply doing what I am told. I mean, I guess you could say I'm smart, but I don't really see that as something to get excited about. As I've said before, all it indicates is that I have the ability to understand things with a greater fluency than others around me. What's so special about that?
Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is that Dre sees in me. I'm not that much to look at, and I won't whore around with him like other girls at Ashley would do in a heartbeat. I keep him up at night on the phone and I come to him crying when everything just gets to be too much for me to handle. I don't wear skanky clothes, I'm too scared to let him teach me to skateboard, and I'm always caught up with stuff for school. I am not the ideal girlfriend for him, I'm really not. Yet, he sees beyond that. There's something in me that he sees, that I just can't seem to see myself. There is something about me that makes him want to stay, but I just can't seem to figure it out. Dre Harper is my best friend, there's no doubt about that. He understands me like nobody else in the world has before. He listens, he cares, he loves -- and I don't know why. Dre deserves better, he really does, but I'm selfish enough to ask him to stay. I don't know where in the world I would be without him. He is my backbone. When I'm at the end of my rope, he's there to hold me and comfort me until I can grab on and climb back up to the top. In so many ways he is my savior, my guidance, my support. He is everything I could ask for in a person, and more. When everyone else in Wilmington has turned their backs on me, Dre is still standing there with me. That itself means more to me than anything else in the world.

I suppose all I've done in this blog is bash myself. It's how I feel, though; and I needed to get it out. I'm sorry if it's not the kind of blog you were hoping to read, or if it made you upset. That was not my intention. My only intention in writing this blog was to get a few things off of my chest in hopes of feeling a little better. Even if nobody but me reads this, it is better to vent somehow than to keep things bottled up forever.
Anyhow, my rant is done.
I hope you're having a nice day.

-Morgan