Don't Act Like I'm Average Novels & Stories

My point is, you're not that special, there are others who are just like you, and there are ones who have it worse or have it better, don't be such a drama queen, you're not that special, you're just you. That's what I was taught growing up, I'm not that special, I shouldn't be feeling or thinking that I'm that one girl, that I'm the girl who's gonna wake up and take over the world, I'm not going to find the cure to cancer although it would be really cool if I do, but I'm not that smart in school I doubt that I'll be able to do it. My name is Stella, I'm sixteen years old, and I'm the most normal girl out there, I'm not special, I'm not someone that you haven't met before, or someone whose s

I act. I act, and pretend to be someone I’m not, because two minutes into the meeting I realise that I’m not very good at this. So I blend into someone who’s not Natalie Jones — a woman who knows what she’s doing, who’s confident about the proposed plan, who knows the ins and outs of how this works, because as much as I hate to admit to it, two days weren’t enough to prepare.

I don't want to spoil my mood Its a very big day for me. To be continued.......... A/P "Sing like no one’s listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and live like it’s heaven on earth." -unknown.

“This is not about me.” “No, it never is.” I had said too much. But I didn’t take it back. Not this time. He stepped closer. Lowered his voice slightly. “We are weeks away from fixing everything.” Fixing. Like my life was something broken that needed repair. “You don’t get to fall apart now.” My chest tightened. “I’m not falling apart.” “Then act like it.” There it was again. Act better. Do more. Be enough. I swallowed. “I’m doing everything I can.”

I let out a quiet laugh, stepping back slightly as the cold sank deep in my skin. “Still hate that part,” I muttered. “You’ll get used to it,” Ava said, already walking deeper into the water. I watched her calmly for a moment. She looked carefree and unbothered, like she hadn’t spent the entire morning reading everyone in the house. “How do you do that?” I asked suddenly. She glanced back at me, puzzled. “Do what?” “Act like everything’s normal.” I said. She tilted her head slightly and smirked. “I don’t think it’s normal.” She replied.

"If I were you I will not ignore those bitches. If they hurt me why not fight back," The reason why I distance myself from Ken every time we’re inside the campus is because of people who keep saying things just because a famous guy like him has a nerdy sister like me. I know it sounds stupid but that’s how it works. If you have a princely and charming brother, you also need to act like him. But I, who rarely comb my hair, is not really pleasant to look at in the eyes of others. I'm not sad about this. I just don’t care, because I can do whatever I want to do with him when we’re home.

I’m waiting for thе signal. I dоn’t mееt eyes with аnуоnе. I just pretend I’m іn my оwn wоrld, lіkе thе rest оf thіѕ сіtу dоеѕ. Nо оnе рауѕ аnу аttеntіоn. This ‘being nоrmаl’ асt іѕ easier thаn I thought.

Normal. A word I am trying and failing to embody. Showing up to school, being in class, pretending to be active in class, and trying to keep my grades up,that is the extent to which I can pretend to be normal. Because if I don't do it, if I fall out of routine and I begin to spiral, I see things that people say aren't there.

I asked him and he laughed out loud. “That’s insane! Your imagination is superb!” He beamed. I smiled and shook my head. “People will think of you as a kind and nice guy because that’s what they see. People see the surface, unless they get to get deeper.” He smiled. “Well, I’m ordinary.” He started. “I’m not pretending to be something I’m not. But I’m nothing but Knight. I mean, I’m a normal nerd who likes to study more than have friends.”

I’m not an object in this setting. I have no clue how to be, who to be or how to act. I have no clue what’s expected of me. Truth be told, I’m not a nice person and I have nothing to offer people when I have no game to play or act to hide behind; nothing interesting, nothing to be proud of. If they scratch too deep, they will realise I’m worthless trash that just looks good in a designer dress and has no substance or depth—Fake as my nails.