They aren't laughing or making fun of me as I walk down the halls. They aren't whispering and gossiping about my failed attempt at being a normal human being. They're smiling.

They're smiling at me.

They aren't laughing at my distress, making a joke or a game out of my feelings.

They're supporting me.

They're cheering me on.

I look at their faces, happy and not judging, and I think, 'There are more nice people in this one hall than I believed to exist in the entire world'.

After school I go straight to my room, clean it in a hurry—mainly one corner—and set my phone up in front of me. It takes many frustrating tries to get it to stay upright, but eventually, I succeed. I press 'record' and take a few steps back.

My eyes flutter closed, and I take what feels like the longest breath I have ever taken. When I open my eyes, I stare at the reflection of myself on the phone screen. "My name is Paris, but you might know me as 'the girl with cold feet' from the recent video swarming through the internet.

"When I first saw that video made about me, I realized that out of all the embarrassing moments in my life, this one had topped the cake. And it had been seen by thousands of people, recorded, and posted on the internet for even more people to see. I didn't feel like talking about it, and I definitely didn't feel like explaining it—I still don't. It doesn't matter why I ran off that stage. It happened and it's done. It isn't something I regret or wish I could do differently, because it's something that just happened. It was just one of those things that can't be helped. Things like that happen to everyone, and I shouldn't be ashamed of it.

"The reason you're hearing all of this in this becoming-very-long video is because I have a message for all you haters out there: Just watch me. I'm going to prove each and every one of you wrong."

One hundred views.

Two hundred.

Three hundred.

Five hundred.

A thousand.

Five thousand.

More and more people watch and spread the video until it reaches past my failure video in views and likes. Comments are appearing at record speed and every time I reload the page I have dozens more notifications.

You go, girl!

I'm not a hater, but I'll be watching!

Can't wait to see what you do next.

I love your voice. You should totally become a singer.

Love seeing brave teens shining like the stars they are!

You probably already have thousands, but here is one more fan <3

I have fans?

It's hard to grasp how my entire life has completely flipped around. Sure, there were hateful comments sprinkled in with the good, but they aren't strong enough to faze me.

My phone rings through the still air, and I reach over to my nightstand to pick it up. "Hey, Lucas. Did you see the video?"

"Who hasn't?! It's blowing up like crazy! That's actually why I was calling. I wanted to congratulate you. I'm going to patch in Justin and Lillian."

"'Kay'."

A few seconds later I hear Lillian's voice come through the phone. "Congrats, girl! I'm so proud of you! You looked so fierce in that video. I knew you had it in you."

My eyes sparkle, and I let out a small laugh. "I don't think I ever could have done it without the amazing support I've gotten." I fall back onto my pillows and scream, "Someone please pinch me!"

"Okay," someone says beside me before pain shoots through my arm. I scream and jump away, tumbling back and falling onto the floor. My phone flies from my hand and lands a few feet away. I pop up quickly and look over the side of my bed. Emilie stands across from me, her hand resting on her hip. "You're welcome. Now, who are you talking to? If it's Lucas, put him on speaker."

I hear muffled voices coming from my phone and fall onto my hands and knees to crawl over to it. Swiping it up I say into the phone, "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just Emilie."

Before anyone can reply on the other side of the line, Emilie steals the phone away. "Is this Lucas?"

"No, it's Lillian," I hear the muffled reply.

"And Lucas."

"And Justin."

"You weren't supposed to say that," I hear Lillian hiss. Emilie rolls her eyes.

"I was hoping it was just Lucas," she replies. Her eye twitches in annoyance. "Bye Lucas and losers." Then she hangs up the phone and tosses it back to me.

"Hey!" I exclaim, scrambling with the phone so it doesn't fall onto the floor again. "Why did you hang up?"

"Uh, I dunno." She shrugs and walks out the door.

The phone rings and when I answer, I find myself patched back into the conversation. "Sorry about that, guys," I say.

"It's fine," they all say in unison.

But this time I don't feel disconnected from their connection. I just laugh along with them like I've known them my entire life.

It definitely feels like I've known them my entire life.

———————

I used to think that friends weren't worth the bother. I blamed that thought on what happened between Penny and me.

But the only reason I subconsciously separated myself from people was that deep down inside I knew I was scared. Who isn't? Judging eyes, hushed whispers, passing glances. There's a constant fear that they are all directed at you.

I still worry about those things from time to time. In fact, it almost feels impossible to break that self-conscious habit. It seems ridiculous after all the support I've gotten from friends and strangers, but I still worry that those people whispering in that dark corner are talking about how I managed to get three slices of pizza on my beautiful duck shirt when I was eating macaroni and cheese yesterday. Don't ask me since even I don't know.

When I first saw the saying 'No one is perfect. That's why pencils have erasers', I thought it meant that we could be erased from existence, and I was like 'what the flip phone'.

But then I thought about it for a bit longer and realized I actually do have a brain.

It means that if we totally mess up, we have a chance to keep trying and learn from our mistakes. It's never too late to start over.

You can't fail forever. Unless you never try.

We write our stories. We decide whether we write it in pen or pencil, bold or light, small or big. It isn't the path haters should pave for you, it's the path you pave, using yellow bricks if you want to.

If there's one thing I've learned from the time I met Lucas until the present, it's that no one is perfect.

I used to have the misconception that Lucas was perfect. That's what he seemed like to me.

It took me a while to fully learn that lesson and move on from wishing I was someone else to working on improving myself.

You can't fail forever. Unless you never try.

So I'm going to try. I'm going to keep trying until my legs are scraped and bruised from every time I fall. But falling is part of life.

Because we're not perfect, the world is completely messed up—broken by its inhabitants over hundreds of thousands of years. But even if we weren't meant to be shattered, we can still look at things positively.

No one should be scared of falling. If everyone was, no one would want to fly and risk it all.

But falling is part of life.

Along with mistakes.

And friends.

Ｆｒｉｅｎｄ

𝐀 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐬.

Ｆｒｉｅｎｄ

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡

Sarcasm is still my friend. But it doesn't have to be my only friend.