Where's the sheep herder? I found the black sheep.

Dear World Wide Web,
They say that some of our traits are genetic, but I refuse to believe that. It just doesn't add up to me. The facts simply are not there. Every member of my family is at least fifteen shades darker than I am, has silkier hair, shades of light brown in their hair, and much smarter. While I stand pale, coarse haired, and sometimes oblivious to the world. Obviously whoever decided this arrangement wanted to play a cruel joke and make a black sheep in the family: me.
The only thing is that, not only do I look the part of the black sheep, I definitely feel like it. Although, it's not the significant events in my life that have made this incredibly clear cut for me to understand, it's the little things. It's the fact that in my baby pictures I look like a pasty, white, awful ugly infant with two slits for eyes rather than my beautiful baby sister with milky skin and big round eyes. Or that I was asked if I was adopted at my cousins wedding ( yes, that happened). It's the fact that I really don't belong, not even genetically.
I do honestly love my family, but they make it hard to admit it when I'm too busy turning shades of crimson while hiding behind something. If only I could describe how embarrassing my family was. You would not even be able to fathom it.
A few months ago my dad was dropping me off at school and said in his most serious voice, “You work too hard, you really are a dork. I’ve never really seen a kid work seven-twenty four,” I stared in disbelief for a moment and said, “excuse me?” He then retorted, “Don’t look at me like that; you know it is seven-twenty four.” I thought to myself, “Gee, hopefully my intelligence comes from mom's side of the family.”
Later my mom was in the store with my sister and I. I was incredibly ecstatic that I was invited to take a special drama class in the beginning of the year, and I tell my mom, “Mom, I’m going to be a thespian!” Without thinking, she screams at the tops of her lungs, “NO DAUGHTER of mine will chase after girls romantically.” Then she started crying, at what I regret to inform you as full volume. I couldn't even decide what was more embarrassing, the fact that I was so red I was purple, or that my mom was pointing at me, rambling on about how disgraceful I was to the family.
They really are embarrassing, but they have developed my character in such a way that I would not be who I am today without their antics. They have taught me to love my roots and stand up for what I believe in, making me stand out. I may be a black sheep in several ways, but I never said it was a bad thing. It makes me self conscious at times, knowing everyone's staring at me because I'm the "casper" of the family. Although it all depends on how well you can take people criticizing or making fun of you. As you can see, I find the most therapeutic way to deal is to laugh my insecurities off, because even if I'm the black sheep, it's what I am. I can't change it, and wouldn't change it for anything.
Regardless, I have to put my past behind me and work on being proud of my inherited genetic traits, even if it takes seven- twenty four.
not as caffeinated,
DECAF dork