For as long as I can remember, I have been a Confused Person™.

Forget about a sixth sense – I barely have five. I have the attention span of a goldfish and the observation skills of a blind goldfish. I have gotten distracted by the feeling of my teeth or pictures in my textbook and missed entire lessons before. The other day while hiking, I was so lost in my own world that I stepped into a hole and gave myself a very large and very painful bruise on my shin. One time while driving, I forgot everything I ever learned, turned into the left lane, and had to swerve onto the grass median to avoid a head-on collision that would have been entirely my fault. And these are only a select few of the times my senses have failed me.

Honestly, it’s a miracle I’ve survived this long. I think that at any given point in time, at least two of my senses are not functioning correctly, or even at all. I frequently pay for this in tears, confusion, and pain.

However, every time I trip and fall or do anything else characteristic of a Confused Person™, someone is there to pick me up again. My friends joke that I am clueless and “the dumbest smart person” they’ve ever met, but they are always there for me when my senses fail. When I tune out lessons and my homework is a jumbled mess of confusion, my friend stops what she’s doing and calmly explains it to me until I understand whatever the teacher said while I wasn’t paying attention. When I tripped into the hole, my friend asked if I was okay and poured her water on the bruise so we could investigate the seriousness of my near-fatal wound. When I almost killed myself in a car accident and showed up fifteen minutes late and crying, my friends listened to my story, comforted me, and gave me their food.

A few hours after I got my hiking bruise, my friend was joking about how I never pay attention and how I am the most unobservant person she has ever met. When I pointed out how she always says mean things to me, she looked at me and said, “You know it’s because I love you, right?”

I might be a clueless, confused mess most of the time, but my friends are always there to help me and make sure I’m okay after I inevitably injure myself. They are my sixth sense. They watch out for me when I can’t, and I watch out for them. I listen to their rants and edit their homework and do my best to cheer them up when they’re upset.

Nobody is one hundred percent observant all of the time. Everybody’s senses fail her sometimes. There will always be distracting textbook pictures and holes in the hiking trail and left lanes that look like right lanes. That’s why we need good friends – to watch our backs and make sure we’re still alive at the end of the day.

Trust me – I’m a certified Confused Person™.