Life is so weird. [I Find It Hard to Smile]

I found some old “friends” of mine from middle school. They’re all thin and drinking wine and lookin like someone’s future soccer mom or trophy wife. Blonde hair. Nails done. White teeth. Basic understanding of fashion. And seem to always get a perfect picture.

Then there’s me.

Brown hair. Brown eyes. An uneven chin due to a deep scar from falling off a house a few years back and being stubborn about not going to the hospital. I they shoot alcohol. I shoot guns and arrows. They all dress nice for everyday. I dress nice for a date with my one and only. They’re always on a boat. And have tan lines. I used to bare a farmers tan from when I worked on a farm. They’re all dating some guys who study in some sort of reality or psychology or something -ology. And I’m alone most nights since my mans in the military. They all drive Porsche or BMW. Or something nice. I got a Kia spectra. But I win at 5-speed.

The funny thing is. As much as at times I wish I stayed their friends. I’m so glad I have the life I have now. I know how to work with my hands and tools. I know how to drive manual. I’m not scared of dirt. I know how to defend my home and life.
The funny thing is. I realize. As much as depression tries to sink in to my life. I laugh and know I’m not water. Where everyone wants some. Or like. I’m the bourbon. Strong and bitter. I require a particular pallet. Not just an ol’ joe will like me.