It’s more than a little alarming when you realize that certain things you perceived as normal – like sleeping with a baby blanket – are actually quite the opposite. You start frantically asking others about this questionable “normal” activity and realize that no one is agreeing with you. Now you feel more alone than ever. No matter how many times you watch Titanic to feel some human connection, Leonardo DiCaprio cannot fill the void in your heart or confirm your uneasiness about this highly debatable “normal” activity.
So now after confessing to your friends that you Google search (or Bing for all you anti-mainstream Internet users) every boy you have hooked up with to find out more information about them, you are left feeling like the biggest creep/loser/psycho/maniac/crazy bitch in the world. And now, you’re stuck with the knowledge that (boy you were once affiliated with) won an award in 7th grade for most improved student and that his mother is an Aquarius.
I can’t be alone on this one. Or alone in the fact that I still sleep with my baby blankets and five stuffed animals. Or that I strategically call my parents from the liquor store to tell them I’m there loudly enough so that the cashier will be like “Oh, her parents know she’s buying alcohol, she must be 21!” Or that I friended people on Facebook before coming to school in hopes of meeting them and actually becoming friends with them. Or that I’m jealous that my mom gets more likes on her profile pictures than I do. Or that I forgot to call my Nana on her birthday. PLEASE SOMEONE TELL ME I’M NOT ALONE!
Why let go of my baby blankets? There is so much sentimental value there that can never be replaced. And you can’t tell me that the liquor store phone call strategy is not the best idea you’ve ever heard. I’ll confess, though, that the Facebook friending is a little creepy. And I apologized profusely to my Nana! I can’t go on justifying these things constantly. It’s just who I am. Accept it.
And for all you haters who actually do these things and deny them in order to keep up a “cool” reputation, give it up. It’s not bad to own up to some of your weird tendencies, it just makes you different – at least that’s what my mom tells me every time she rubs my belly and sings “nonny, nonny, nonny.”
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