Accepting being true

I know something for sure, i have no charisma, i'm clumsy in many ways, i won't state that to pity me, i accept it's a part of my personality; When i walk in the wind my entangled sparse hair worry me constantly; In group games i'm impulsive, lingering slowly then suddenly making a vehement rush; My gazes aren't straight, i can't watch someone in his eyes, i use tricks to gather informations on people's looks and tempers, i roll my head like a travelling camera, my pupils flutter, wide and panicked, make me look shy, unsure, definitely unattractive; I surely don't have the gait of a cat on a low wall with my crooked spine, the throat bent forward like i'm a hunchback, a flaw probably due to all the hours spent jamming in my rock n roll universe, a robust guitar collapsing my left shoulder; My gestures are awkward and i mainly don't know what to do with my hands while i'm in public, hiding them deep in my pockets until i get red semi circle around my wrists like if i was cuffed, or desperatly holding on the strap of my bag, sweaty and oozing fear; Yeah! I recognize i'm not stereotyped with that nonchalant body of mine.