I am the character that nobody writes. I am the middle person, the odd man out, the uninteresting one.
Have you ever read a great book or seen a movie where there are two people who are polar opposites and yet each is individually fascinating?
Those are my sisters.
Meg, the eldest, is like what you’d imagine a disney princess in real life would be. Tough but sensitive. She lives in a fairy tale world where everything is as she wants, pleases. Her clothes are neat, her hair is plain, she has a smile that lights up a room and everyone seems to enjoy being around her. She is brown haired with natural blond highlights and clear blue eyes. People say she is gorgeous and fair, like something you’d pull out of a painting. Her temperament is calm and she seems to genuinely enjoy helping others.
This is my sister, quickly described.
My other sister is Eve.
Cool, collected, and completely on top of the world, this sister doesn’t care a lick what others think of her. She is confident and beautiful, two qualities that come as naturally to her as breathing does to others. She likes to wear funky clothes and outrageous make up. Her hair is brown and she has a nose and cartilage ring. When she walks, her hips sway and she shoves her shoulders back, though again this all is natural and not forced. Boys tend to stare when she passes and there’s barely been any that can resist her. Her smile is quirky and she’s painfully sarcastic. I guess a good way to describe her is to say, she doesn’t give a shit. You could say anything you like to her and it would be like water under the bridge. Unnoticed.

I am much different then my sisters and I guess you could say we all are. While they are stunners and angels, I am the fly, buzzing in your face.
I am not tall or short but somewhere stuck in between. I have fuzzy, bushy, dark brown hair and a boyish grin that usually is lob-sided. I can never agree on the clothes I like to wear, so I’m either looking too much like a guy or too much like a girl, for my taste.
My confidence likes to come in small spurts and when it does, I usually end up doing something stupid that embarrasses me. My wit is quick, but this often ends me in trouble or disliked by the people I offend.
I guess you could describe me as a loner since I do spend most of my time alone. Writing or trying to find something to write about.
I go in cycles, flashing in between personas and trying to be four thousand different people. The funny thing is, I know who I am. I’m the supporting actresses, the best friend, the side part. I’m not the leading lady like my sisters. I’m lucky if I’m not dead by the end of the book or movie. I’m not the one who gets the guy or the happy ending.
I’m the character you never really know what happens too. The one stuck in leeway.
This is me in a nutshell.
But I hate shells and I hate cages. And I’m tired of feeling satisfied with this stereotype or whatever you want to call this label bound tightly around me that I’m fighting against.
I’m tired of being in the supporting role. I’m ready to start running my own life.
No longer am I going to be the typecast that is repeatedly placed in the same part, playing the same character over and over again.
I’m breaking these bonds and kicking over a couple chairs while I’m at it, cause I’m done with this crap.
It’s time I was the leading lady in my own life. So I’m starting new and writing my own story, and this time......I’m the main character.