I am a huge fucking nerd.

I am a huge bookworm, and I love reading. I wouldn't be lying if I said that I didn't totally despise writing as well. Yes, yes, I know, bad ass Jean is actually a huge nerd, but I blame my parents for that one.

When I was younger, they fought a lot. I... didn't like it. Neither did Maria, but at least she could handle it all. I couldn't. At all. I act as if I have no emotions, well, not exactly like that, but I act as if I couldn't give a shit about anything or anyone. But in reality, everything affected me quite deeply. I take note of everything, and worry how people feel towards me. Insecurities. Everywhere.

The only person who knew this much about me was Maria, and she tried so hard to comfort me when she found me holding my hands over my ears and on the verge of tears in my room near weekly. They fought that much.

And Maria decided to act as a therapist of some sort and suggested that I take up a hobby. We were eleven when she said this. I tried art, as in drawing, and my drawings looked like shit took a shit. They were simply that bad. Next up was singing, and my singing voice made my voice sound hoarse (#sorrynotsorry).

Chess, puzzles, cooking, even sewing, nothing worked. Until one particularly bad fight where tears had fallen and I need some way to express my feelings without simply screaming.

It was a random decision really, pulling out a piece of paper, slamming a pencil on top of it and sitting at my desk and staring to write. The emotions just simply came out that day like a waterfall from my heart to the paper. And I realized that my passion was to write. And with writing came reading as a way to see how others wrote, to see their technique, their style. Not to steal what they had wrote, but to improve your own writing. But I didn't just read for that; to put it bluntly, I just liked to sink into another world for a while and put the worries of the world around me out of my mind for a while. A book is a safe space. If Iam to cry, it should be over a story... not over life.

I noticed that I'm rambling again, sorry, but here is a poem that I wrote that day:

Is it my fault?
The fighting, the screaming?The tears that are falling?
The love that is fleeing?

Is it my fault?
Am I the true disappointment here?
I caused this, didn't I?
No... my mind just needs to clear...

But no...
My head doesn't lie.I CAUSED THIS.
And I didn't even try.

Is this my fault?
This is my fault.

It always has been.

Okay, okay, I know, kind of very depressing, self-pitying, and badly written, but I was only eleven, what can you say? About the depressing factor...

I'm okay, I swear! I'm good, great! Never been better!

...

Who am fooling anymore with these lies?

"Oi, Jean, that girl is waving you over," Ymir said, taking her attention off of Christa for a whole second to look around and notice Marco waving with a smile. I snorted at Ymir's comment and waved Marco over. He seemed wary at first, but he started walking over.

"Ymir... he's a boy."

"Oh... cute outfit then."

Marco sat beside me kind of stiffly and looked at everyone. My whole group of friends had decided to show for lunch today, and all of them had turned to Marco who sat wide eyed and looked at them. He turned to me and the eyes shifted to me and Jagerass smirked.

"Jean, who's this?" he crooned and I damn near smacked him.

"Guys, this is Marco," I said before telling Marco who everyone was. He seemed a bit lost, but he smiled and waved at them when the introductions were done.

"Aren't you hot wearing that sweater on a day like today?" Connie asked and Marco puled down the sleeves of his sweater a bit more and shifted his eyes away.

"I-I'm quite fine, actually..." he responded. He had just relaxed, but I could feel him stiffen up again.

"Oh, says the one who wore a jacket all through summer one time," Sasha says, breaking the tension and Connie turns to her,

"Excuse you, that jacket was fantastic! It was about this anime that I saw-"

"Oh God, not this again," Mikasa interrupted.

"What was it, some weird cannibalism anime?" Ymir inquired and Connie turned to her with a frown.

"It's called Tokyo Ghoul!"

I tapped Marco and he turned to me. I snickered and told him, "What's even funnier is that he made it himself."

"MY ART WAS FLAWLESS!"

Marco laughed along beside me and I could sense that the tension was gone. To be honest, I was grateful that he was able to fit in so quickly. I haven't necessarily ever been the "new kid" somewhere, but I know what it's like to not fit in.

You may be asking: Oh my, how could the ever cool Jean not fit it, it's impossible?

Well, it was pretty easy for me.

You know how they say to just be yourself? I tried that. It just ended up pushing everyone away from me. I turned into that loner kid who read books during lunch and rarely talked in classes. That went on until I was eleven. That's when I met Connie.

I sat at the lunch table, half-heartedly eating an apple while I read a new book I had gotten. Edgar Allen Poe, actually. It was pretty weird, and not the best thing to read while trying to eat, but I didn't care. I was interested in it.

The only time I was pulled out of the book was when someone slammed their hand down on the table and I jumped, then looked up at them. It was some... bald kid who was looking at me in confusion. I just stared back, slightly nervous from his eyes.

"Did you realize that you look slightly like a horse?" he asked and I started choking on a piece of apple. He came over and patted on my back until I was able to swallow it and I looked at him.

"Wha-What?

"I just figured I should inform you of that. My name's Connie!" he enthusiastically introduced and stuck out his hand. I slowly put down my book and took his hand in my own and shook it.

"...Jean..."

He released my hand then started talking about some video game and sat down next to me. He just invited himself into my life, like he belonged there, like it was natural to randomly do that. I mean, I understand the concept of making friends, I'm not that stupid. It just seemed strange.

And with befriending Connie, came Sasha since those two were childhood friends. I had two friends.

When I was twelve, I met Armin when I was reading To Kill a Mockingbird. He walked over and asked me about my opinions on the book and we got into a discussion over it.

With Armin came Mikasa and Eren, who although I had a bit trouble with, me and Eren got... "together". I had five friends now.

I met Ymir and Christa through Connie because Ymir and him had apparently bonded through their passionate love of video games. Seven.

As for Annie, Bertholdt, and Reiner, I'm honestly not sure of when I befriended them, all I know is that they just sat with us one day and no one told them to leave. In fact, Armin started talking to Annie almost right away, so they were just... there. Ten friends as of now. I was comfortable with that number, it was actually a big number. I had hoped that it wouldn't changed.

I looked over to Marco and saw him smiling and talking to Christa about something.

I felt a small smile tug at my lips when he turned to me and smiled his sweet smile at me.

Maybe eleven isn't too bad of a number.