It happens to everyone. I hate to say this but I do things that seem completely idiotic and worthy of great, big smack on the forehead. With a reputation like mine, there are days when I think that perhaps I really am a flake—a bit harebrained sometimes, or was just born that lucky. Back in high school, peer pressure would get to me, and I used to beat myself up about horrifying memories that kept replaying over and over in my head. Is there any way of salvaging a shredded dignity when it has been picked at by the school vultures? If it is true what they say about birds of the same feathers flock together, why do my friends not suffer the same as I do? Not that I wanted them to suffer though. Could it be that I was the love duck in a pond of swans? As I got older, I eventually gave up on trying to change what I could not control, and just embraced who and what I had become.
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