A Somewhat Awkward Introduction

After a series of embarrassing incidents, I became quite the spectacle in middle school. Naturally, no one wanted to befriend the girl, who, after failing miserably at a math problem, yelled "Mom!" at Mr. Poole for some numerical assistance, ran out of the room embarrassed, tripped down the stairs and ripped her trousers open in the process. Luckily, I was always in my own head so much (tripping mystery solved), that I barely had time to be offended by the immature jeers of my peers. Still, it was rather lonely to walk about the halls and not be able to glance at anyone and smile, or give passersby the finger guns without being scoffed at. But pitying this hilariously socially inept child would be a waste, because like most stories she invented in her mind, this one ended happily when she found her vice: games.
At home, I was forbidden to spend more than a half an hour on the computer, so any chance of game playing there was effectively quashed. I barely had time to send an email with my sixth grade typing proficiency, let alone play tetris long enough to lose. I instead, then, spent a great deal of time inventing games for myself. To this day, whenever I look at a word, I anagram it. "Huh," I think when I look at a police car, "'Police' anagrams to 'lie cop'...coincidence? I think not." An unconventional game, yes, but anagramming made me feel satisfied, achieved, and special. I later moved on to making my own palindromes, watching jeopardy (while recording my score, of course), and participating in a series of nerdy activities that, naturally, further ostracized me from my fellow pre-teens.
Not until seventh grade did I find a group of friends. We locked eyes as we all wandered around the hall, mumbling word puzzles and pushing up our glasses. Somehow, we all managed to be socially apt enough to agree on eating lunch together. We all met in the library, which was the safest room in school. We were certain that none of our bullies were even aware that the library existed. After playing some quick games of chess, my new friends, Megan and Liz, brought me over to the computers and introduced to me my first game addiction: neopets.
I was immediately struck by the sheer cuteness of the website. I was able to own a pet that could only be described as a ball of fluff with feet. Additionally, I got to play games to earn money to feed it, and shop and do everything that mimicked real life. I'm sure that I enjoyed it because as my mom said, I was born a thirty-year-old. I loved being responsible for something that was so important to me. Also, the flash games kicked ass. Suddenly, Liz and Megan and I became closer. We talked constantly about Meerca Chase and how our JubJubs were faring in battle, and suddenly weren't lonely anymore. Somehow, games, which had become a way to distract myself from the world around me, were now something that connected me to people.
Today, they remain as such. In high school, I became friends with predominately man-folk, who taught me to snipe, brawl, and planeswalk with expertise. In my current group of friends, being unable to play Magic, D&D, or video games makes you essentially unable to participate in conversation. It took me only two weeks to realize this in college, and immediately joined their D&D campaign. I did so begrudgingly at first, painfully aware of the D&D stereotypes that various geek-hating propoganda had poisoned my mind with. I was surprised to find, then, that I loved everything about D&D. I created my character (a death-touched sorceress with a raven familiar named Sebastian) and found myself eagerly anticipating the next time I would be able to orb of cold a wrong-doer or alchemist fire a bullywog. I love playing games because they're something to look forward to, something to make my day just a tad more exciting, and because they've transformed Sally, a sheepish overalls-wearing pre-teen to a confident, Magic enthusiast. Whether some may consider this to be a step backward is irrelevant, because ironically, through role-playing, I've found who I truly am. Probably.