My name is Storm. Just Storm. My real name is Samantha, but I changed it because its unoriginal and honestly, boring as hell. My parents strongly lack creativity. Thank god I don't have to deal with them any more.
I remember the day I decided to change my name. I was in kindergarten and was lucky enough to get a desk right beside the windows. The clouds were crying the entire day, and it made my chest burn with happiness and comfort. A feeling I didn't get very often. I stared up at the blueish-grey cotton balls filling up the entire sky, and longed to fly and hide away in them. Just then, a loud "Boom!" noise exploded out of the clouds, followed by brief streaks of light. It startled me terribly at first, but I was absorbed in amusement.
"Looks like it's going to be a bad storm. Can't wait to drive home." Our young teacher rolled her eyes as she slowly pulled down the blinds. I was awfully confused about her accusation. And then when I looked around my classroom, my classmates seemed to be fairly unhappy about this storm. One kid complained about having to walk home. Another claimed his dog will be up all night barking if it carries on. I thought they were all insane. How could they possibly consider a bold and beautiful thing like this, a nuisance?
And that's when it hit me. That's when I realized I'm not like those other kids, and I never would be like them.
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Misfits
Pertualangan"Being the weird kid sucks, doesn't it? People don't want to get involved with you. They don't want to bother getting to know you because their lives are simply just perfect the way they are. No need to add strange people. They mock you for be...
