My father would call me constant. My mother would say I had my head screwed on just right. My brother would say I’m the most boring thing that ever graced the planet. Like gravity.

Science is my favorite class, even with the chairs that are too high and don’t let your legs touch the ground, and the black tables that always seem to be cold no matter how long you lay your arm there. Often, when I’m bored with Rachel Baeta sticking her fingers in the Bunsen burners and saying “this feels good…. Its kinda hot though” I take out my textbook and count how many rules govern our universe. One, two, three, four, five… and on and on. Rules, rules, rules. There’s even a rule about how we know that we know nothing- a bit redundant don’t you think?

I have always been the good girl. I follow the rules of my parents, my teachers, and my society. I keep spinning around the sun, day after day. Get up in the morning and eat bran, its good for you. Go to school and pay attention, don’t you want to go to collage? Drive home and help around the house, don’t you know how hard we work? Yes Mom, yes Dad, I know how hard you work to make your reputations sparkle like diamonds. I think fools gold would be more appropriate- glittery on the outside, but completely useless.

I’m going to go to art school. Oh wait, didn’t you want me to go to Stanford and study political science? Huh. Too bad. I’m done being the steady, steady earth and its time for this star to spontaneously combust.