Today in guitar class, the ever persistent freshman, whose Pseudonym I've yet to come up with, guessed it. I knew the exact moment when he suspected something was off about me, his inquiries were still playful and charming but they suddenly had new direction. He really had no clue how close he was to the truth.
I'm.... a little bit different. I love pizza, I refuse to ever wash my chucks (dirty shoes are loved shoes c; ), I'm on my way to college next year and I'm also a Psychic.
Ugh, I hate that word. Psychics, to me, are palm readers with bad intentions and a neon light up sign in front of their houses. No thanks. I prefer to be called a sensitive. Though it has come to my attention that this doesn't really affect anyone's life but mine, so no one else has spent countless hours Google-ing this crap to find out all the different names for it. Silly me.
It's really not that noticeable. I don't usually climb buildings and scream it to the mountains but as it turns out a clever freshman is more than a little observant. He guessed it and eventually, after making him eat a piece of paper he didn't even understand.. I told him. Then we spent the next hour talking about it and me getting slightly more than little self conscious. I'm just not used to sharing.
I don't know why I'm starting this blog. It's probably (more like actually) a really bad idea. If my mom ever finds out I'm putting this out there I'm going to be in so much trouble. Maybe that's why. Because it really sucks a fat one that I'm always my own biggest problem because some messed up rule of reality meant that I had to be born like THIS.
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