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Okay, these are my writings from about a year, ago, when I was actually going through these events. All my real thoughts. It's all real. I posted a version of this in the fiction section, with a bunch of fictional crap added, but I decided to scratch that and tell it how it really is. Here's just the first bit. Not much happens. Don't give me tips on grammar, because I'll fix all that later, just tell me what you think of the whole thing.
I hate the school bus. I just hate it. It makes me feel like such a child. I mean, I am a child, but the school bus just makes me feel so childish. At this point in my life, I don’t want to feel like some flake riding the goddamn school bus. It gets old after a while. I’d been riding the bus ever since I began elementary school. Whenever I rode it, it made me feel as if I was in elementary school again. Riding the bus killed me.
This was my first day of Ninth grade. Not only that, but it was my first day of school in Pennsylvania. Mom forced me to move here a few months ago, during my summer break. She’s such a tool sometimes. It’s unbelievable. I love her and all -- don’t get me wrong -- but she’s a very weak person. She runs into a few financial problems, and bam, “Pack up your bags Kale!” I love mom as a mother, but I can’t say I love her as a person. She’s just so weak. She gave me the same bull that all parents give their children when they fuck up; that they’re “only doing what’s best for you”. Every time someone speaks those words, it makes me want to stick my finger down my throat and somehow manage to shoot the vomit into the person’s face. If only you could do those kinds of things in real life. Reality’s a killjoy, it really is.
There’s something about me that I’ve always been pretty proud of; I never lie in order to feel better about myself. I lie sometimes, sure. Everyone does, even those who say they don’t. But unlike most people, I never lie for the benefit of somebody else. If a person asks me how they look in their new outfit, and they look just plain ugly, I’ll tell it to them straight. And that isn’t being cruel. It’s being real. If you tell them that they look wonderful, they’ll believe you, because that’s what they want to hear. And chances are, they’ll act as if they look wonderful.
I had hardly any interest in making new friends at Solon High School. Well, I would have liked to, but I was old enough to understand that it just wouldn't happen. It’s always been like that for me. This was the third move of my life, and at all three of the schools I’d attended, I was an outcast. And don’t think of me as one of those awkward kids who dress in black. You know, those gawky kids who wear tight geans, dye their hair, and sit in the corner of the room with their head in a book. That’s not me at all. I try to socialize, I really do. Well, at least I used to. People don’t like me. They never have. I’ve kind of gotten used to it, and kind of grown into it. Sure, I’ve had friends, but not many.
It doesn’t really bother me too much. Most loners, even if they don’t talk about it, feel sorry for themselves because of the lack of girls in their lives. All guys just want to have a girlfriend, to feel like they’re getting the basics of life.
There have been a few girls in my life, but I haven’t really gotten anywhere. I’m alright looking, I suppose. Nothing breathtaking, but not bad. And realistically, looks are all you really need, unless you’re some kind of freak or monster inside. The thing about me, is that I can’t stand most attractive girls, and they’re the only one’s I’d really like to do anything with. Yeah, I’m shallow. I admit it. But everyone is shallow. Ugly people have no right to hate the world for how they're treated, because the only reason it bothers them is they know how much it’ll affect their chances of getting a hot boyfriend or girlfriend, which is the exact behavior they claim to hate in everyone.
Attractive girls don’t have it as good as they think. Usually, they’re snotty and fake. They think they deserve respect without earning it. Everyone’s so nice to these girls because of their looks, that they’re fooled into believing that they actually deserve the respect they recieve...that they’re receiving all this respect because they’re just so cool and funny, and fun to be around. Guys always take shit from pretty girls, that's the problem. You have to feel sorry for hotties, really. Their whole lives are a joke and they don’t even know it.
Anyway, that’s why I’ve never had a girlfriend. I can’t go after the ugly ones, and I despise the hotties. It’s depressing, honestly.
Sometimes I feel thankful for being inferior. I mean, if you fall into the crowd, you’ll lose any sense of self you were born with. You’ll just lose it. Whenever I see a group of jocks making fun of a fat girl, or a bunch of plastics texting during a movie, it makes me sick to my stomach. All these people, they just sort of fall into the clutter. That spark in their brain that was supposed to make them special and unique disappears.
My reputation at my last school was being a bit of an asshole. Sometimes kids would try to be friendly to me. They’d compliment me on my shirt, or ask me to eat lunch at their table because I’d been sitting alone. I’d refuse and look like a jerk to everyone. The thing is, I knew they were only offering so they could feel good about themselves. They didn’t want me eating with them. People think it’s so important to be so damn nice...If you don’t feel it, then you shouldn’t act it. There’s nothing worse than acting your way through life. People say crap all the time just to sound cute, just to fit in. It depresses me, really.
Anyway, there I was on the bus, with some kid behind me yelling profanity at the bus driver. My hair was beginning to get wet, I could feel it. This kid was practically drooling on me. I wanted to lean my head back and literally spit in his mouth. Oh, and what's so funny about the word "faggot"? I guess it's loud, gets everyone’s attention, and a lot of saliva comes out when you scream it. The bus driver just ignored this little prick and kept driving. If I could be that driver for five minutes, I would have stopped the bus and given this kid a good beating. I was fantasizing it myself. Not that I would ever do anything like that, though.
Nobody paid any attention to me. I guess it was because I was sitting near the back, and I was the "new kid". Also, I wasn't making any effort to engage in conversation or socialize at all. In order to fit in at the moment, I would have to start throwing things and acting like a pervert. Seriously, guys were actually feeling up girls right before my eyes. It made me sick. Who wants to see that on a bus? Who wants to see other guys do that anywhere? I just sat there, with my headphones on. The loudest, most obnoxious rock song in my music library couldn't drown out all the yelling and obnoxious laughing.
I was sitting by myself, of course, with my head leaning against the window, trying to keep my mind blank, but failing miserably. It’s hard for me to keep my mind blank. Whenever I try, I end up thinking about why I’m keeping my mind blank.
The bus absolutely reeked of body odor. I’m not kidding, it was awful. And I’m not one of those obnoxious guys who just complain about body odor even if it isn’t bothersome. This was ridiculous. Ninth grade, and people still weren’t using deodorant or showering. Well, at least a bunch of boys weren’t. The girls showered and deodorized, that was a safe assumption. The guys, however... I’d actually been holding my hand over my nose for the past ten minutes just to avoid the stench.
I wasn’t nervous about starting up at a new school again. Sure, it would be awkward, seeing everyone for the first time, when everyone else already knew each other for years and had established their cliques. However, I expected that. I’d given this a lot of thought. It doesn’t make sense to be too worried about anything, at least not to me. If you know something’s coming, it makes more sense to prepare for it, rather than worry about it. If you give something enough thought, you’ll always manage to convince yourself that things will work out in the end.
The world isn’t a bad place. People make it a bad place. They don’t realize they’re doing it. If everyone would stop trying to live by everyone else’s standards, there would be no war, no hate, no conflict. Fear is the basis of every issue known to man. No matter what the conflict is, fear is what caused it from the beginning. Hate doesn’t just spontaneously emerge form our systems. It’s our way of dealing with the fear of not being able to accomplish what we think is necessary. And what causes that fear? The constant pressure everyone puts on us; to fit in, to be accepted, to do what you’re told without thinking.
The sad part is, none of it is worth it. Everyone grows up thinking the world is a terrible place because all they ever think about is their goddamn grades, or their jobs, or their sex lives. Not me. I have bigger plans, and they don’t involve being rich. They don’t involve being a playboy. And they don’t involve being a rockstar, or a pilot, or an astronaut, or an architect, or a star athlete. Me? I’m going to simply go through life day by day, caring about what’s really important. I don’t know where that’ll land me, but it’s the only rational way to live. Yeah, I know that’s hard for most people to comprehend, that there’s a sensible way of life that doesn’t involve keeping wealthy and making everyone in love with you, but it’s real, and it’s there.
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