I sat in the corner and watched everyone walk out of the principal’s office, equally punished for wearing the same outfit they had coordinated weeks earlier, it was against the dress code.
Velour jumpsuits with slivers of hip bones showing, they all got detention.
I didn’t have one of those tracksuits, it had never occurred to me to want one. But that’s the thing about high school, it makes you reject convention and crave it all at the same time.
To be different but in the same way as everyone else, chastising your parents for their ordinariness whilst hoping that you will live up to the expectations of the ordinary people around you.
Did I miss something?
Writing in notebooks and wishing to be something I was not.
I think about that day, the sea of pastels and flat-ironed hair and laughs that I could not partake in.
I felt low, lonely, impossibly different.
Isn’t it one of life’s big ironies, that we grow up wanting to be different, and yet we never think about how lonely it is, to be different than everyone else.