class.

my whole life I've tried to be classy. I have always wanted to seem like someone with the name Grace Holloway. It seems classy and composed. It's taken me 18 years to realize that no matter how hard I try I will still walk all the way across campus with my skirt tucked into my undies, people will still bump into me  in the cafeteria and I will still spill my boiling chicken noodle soup all over myself, the floor and the 8 people nearest to me. No matter how hard I try I forget to shave my legs, I leave half of my hair out of my ponytail and I trip up a staircase with thousands of people and I get trampled. I'm missing an earring, I didn't pluck that lone black hair on my chin, there's a booger hanging from my nose, I forgot to bring a pen to class, I lock myself out of my room I can't stop biting my nails so my nail polish is chipped, my backpack is unzipped and everything falls out, I step on peoples feet and spit in their faces when I talk, I laugh my annoying laugh at all the wrong times. I try so hard and will continue trying but I'm not sure I will ever consider myself a classy gal.

I TRY.