Why We're All The Same Freaks We Were In High School -- And Why That's Okay
As a teenager I felt like that solid, red pimple with no give, no whitehead ripe for a satisfying squeeze. The pain on the outside reflecting the tense churning and discomfort underneath. A differentness I knew would keep me permanently locked out of their circle, disconnected from everyone else who seemed so in tune with one another. They had best friends. I never did.
Robin Hoffman, ContributorWriter, Small Biz Owner, Lover of Small Moments