I went to my brothers graduation last year, in the same place I graduated seven years beforehand, and what struck me the most was how every single one of the girls in grade six seemed to be in that gangly awkward stage where nothing fits quite right, and even the ones I could pick out as the popular ones had that roughed ugly duckling edge to them, like they were just about to hatch. This was such a revelation to me because I remember standing up on that stage, and looking around at my classmates being in awe of their confidence, their grace and their ability not to look constantly awkward. I felt as if I was the most out of place, long-limbed creature to ever walk the earth. And that feeling has stayed with my as I’ve grown into an adult (it still feels odd to say that word, adult) even though I’ve cut down on how many tables I knock into daily, I walk without hunching over so much now and my social skills have improved (slightly). But inside me I still carry that 12-year-old girl who is terrified of speaking to people and who sees herself as the only ugly duckling. Even when I look in the mirror now and see a completely different person, that part of me is still there, and I think it will stay a part of me forever, because sometimes you can’t shake the way you saw yourself when you were 12.