Honestly, I'm not really sure where this is going. I was walking to the bookstore today and a voice popped into my head. Maybe I'm psychotic. But I thought I'd just run with it. Not sure even about what the plot's going to be. Bear with me. :)
Let's get this straight, right at the beginning. My story is not something you will like. This is not a book that you're going to recommend to your friends as something warm and fuzzy, one of those oh-gosh-don't-I-feel-like-life-matters-after-all kind of books. No, you'll probably put it down, assuming you've stuck through to the end, and think, "Wow. That sucks."
That said, if you want to stay, understand that I am not at all liable for any anger you may feel towards me. Is that understood?
I'm one of those girls that doesn't care. Or at least, that's what I like to pretend. If you see me walking down the street, long red hair tied in a messy bun, ratty old bag and beaten-up laptop, you'd probably think, "Wow, she doesn't care what anyone thinks." Well, you'd be wrong. In reality, I spent 2o minutes this morning trying to get my hair just messy enough. I wasted two hours last saturday finding that perfectly ratty bag, and I commissioned my cousin to scratch my computer on purpose. My hair isn't even naturally red.
The truth is, I'm terrified of being average. My parents are geniuses. My sister is brilliant. But me? I'm average. Even my looks are average--greeny-grey eyes, bland brown-blonde hair, peachy-tan skin. I look like the cookie-cutter white girl from a slightly over-privileged neighborhood who takes the bus to school every morning. Or, I used to.
Now I try to look artsy and deep and intellectual. But I'm not, really. I carry around a copy of War and Peace that I've never even opened. I am, as that guy from Catcher in the Rye would say, a phony.
Am I, really? I like acting. I read. Just not War and Peace. But I read. I read the Iliad. Well, that was for school. But I loved it. Or maybe I just thought I loved it because I'd recently seen Troy. That could have had something to do with it. I don't know. Is that fair to myself? I don't know.
That's another thing about me. I like to pretend I have all the answers, but I don't. Sometimes I'll put on the casual nerd persona, answering peoples' questions about books, language, vocabulary...
Back to the Iliad thing. Sorry to hit the dead horse. But I really did like it. It was really different than I thought it would be. Of course, when my teacher told us that's what we'd be reading, I was inwardly bummed. But outwardly I had this face on like, "Oh, the Iliad. That's quite interesting. I read that when I was eight. Such a quaint book!" But I really did like it.
I'm a liar, too. I'm not lying about the Iliad. But I am a liar. I lie to my parents. I lie to my friends, sometimes, too. Especially about what I know. I'm getting better, but I'm still a phony.
Wow, Holden Caulfield would hate me.