High School me wasn’t shy. I was belligerent, aggressive, and always ready with a sarcastic quip in any situation. But it wasn’t motivated by confidence at all. I was painfully self conscious like most teens my age, only I hid it beneath a layer of attitude.
Maybe I still do.
But even then I was a storyteller. I met my husband when I was eighteen. In getting to know each other, I explained the scars I have with elaborate stories of gunfights involving rival gangs and a knife-fight challenge that I clearly won. The truth pales in comparison, although I still maintain being shot by your brother with a BB gun can be considered a gun fight.
I don’t want to forget that girl. I liked her and I hope she can live on in the stories I tell now. I hope as adults we aren’t trying to force our teenagers to be who we want them to be and instead are giving them room to be who they choose to be.
And here’s a little Three Doors Down with a song that pretty much sums it all up for me.