When I was fourteen, I sat in the back of a school bus frantically trying to hide the fact that I was wearing the same cotton pantsuit for the third time that week. I felt as though everyone on that bus was laughing at me. I know now that they weren’t but my perspective was a hot mess. I felt like an outsider, a failure, a giant loser. I was not pretty or funny. I was not talented in any way. I was “just” smart.

I didn’t want to be smart. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be funny. I wanted...