I’ll admit it – I’ve never really fit in. From a young age, I’ve always had trouble making friends and connecting with people. It’s not that I don’t want to – believe me, I crave that sense of belonging more than anything. But there’s just something about me that makes others uncomfortable.

Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t seem to hide my emotions like everyone else. While my peers are busy perfecting their poker faces, I’m over here wearing my heart on my sleeve. If I’m feeling happy, sad, frustrated, or anything in between, you’ll know it. There’s no fake smiles or carefully curated social media personas with me. I’m an open book, for better or worse.

And heaven forbid I ever get close to someone. As soon as they start to see the real me – the messy, vulnerable, unfiltered version – they high-tail it out of there. It’s like they’re terrified I’m going to expose their own insecurities or something. Like, sorry I can’t just pretend to be someone I’m not! That’s just not how I’m wired.

I remember one time in high school, I had this friend, let’s call her Sarah. We seemed to really hit it off at first – shared the same sense of humor, similar interests, all that. But as we got closer, I started opening up about some of my personal struggles. Big mistake. Sarah suddenly got all awkward and distant, and before I knew it, she had completely ghosted me. Guess she couldn’t handle the realness.

It’s the same story, time and time again. I’ll meet someone, we’ll click, and then as soon as they see the real me peeking through, they’re gone. Like, what, are they afraid my authenticity is going to rub off on them or something? Heaven forbid they have to actually feel their own feelings for once.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “female friendship” thing. For whatever reason, I just never seem to click with other women. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t play the comparison game or participate in the constant one-upmanship. I’m too busy being my weird, honest self to worry about who has the cutest outfit or the most likes on Instagram.

But that means I’m always the odd one out. The one who doesn’t get invited to girls’ nights or who sits alone at the lunch table. The one who’s labeled as “intimidating” or “too much” simply because I refuse to fit into the mold.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m just destined to be the lone wolf forever. The one who’s always on the outside looking in, yearning for that sense of belonging that seems to come so easily to everyone else. But then I remember – at least I have my integrity. At least I’m not constantly playing a part or hiding behind a mask.

And you know what? Screw it. If people can’t handle my honesty and vulnerability, that’s their problem, not mine. I’d rather be alone than surround myself with fakeness. Because one day, I know I’m going to find my people – the ones who appreciate my realness and don’t run for the hills when I dare to show them the messy, unfiltered version of myself.

Until then, I’ll keep doing me. I’ll keep wearing my heart on my sleeve and never apologizing for it. Because at the end of the day, the only person I have to answer to is myself. And I’m pretty damn proud of who I am.