The tall, curly haired boy stared solemnly at the mohawked boy sitting by himself in the corner of the room. He had known this boy for a long time, but the other boy didn't know him. He vowed to himself that he would talk to him this year.

The first bell rang, marking the end of the summer. The curly haired boy sighed and took out his notebook. 'Just another boring, lonely year.' He thought to himself.

By lunch, he realized he had two classes with the small boy.

"Hey man!" One of his 'friends' said to him, sitting down at the table he was at. "Dude, I had the most awesomest summer ever. Sucks balls that it's over."

"Yeah." He mumbled to his friend.

"What's wrong with you today, Gam?" The friend asked.

"Nothing." Gamzee said and got up to go.

"Come on, dude. I know it sucks that summers over, but you don't have to go fuckin emo on me."

Gamzee turned around and punched him in the face. The cafeteria went silent.

"What the fuck man?" The friend stood up and tried to swing at the tall boy, but he ducked and ran out of the cafeteria and out of the school.

"What is wrong with me?" He said out loud to himself as he ran home. He didn't mean to punch his friend, he didn't know what came over him at that moment.

Gamzee ran some more, as far and as hard as he could, far far away from the school. He ended up in the park. This was his favorite place to go, especially when he's mad.

"S'wrong Gam?" He heard a girl voice from behind him and he turned to see Vriska, the town misfit.

"I punched a kid in the cafateria today. So I ran." He said to her and sat on a bench. She sat next to him.

"Don't do that." She said and lit a cigarette. She offered him one.

"No thanks Vris. I'm trying to quit." She shrugged and took a long drag.

"I admire your strength." She said between puffs. "I wish I could quit. Why?"

"I want to be good enough. And even though I feel better when I'm drugged, im clearer when I'm sober. Sharper, smarter. I can think." he sighed and put his face in his hands "I've been without a hit of anything for three days."

"And you get angry easily for no reason?" she asked.

"Yeah. I punched my dad yesterday. He had to go to the hospital for a broken nose." He started to shake. "Vriska, what's wrong with me?" He yelled. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER?" He yelled as she was flicking her cigarette butt.

"Well this is new. Stop being so angry." She said calmly. He stood up and she followed suit. He looked the four inches down to meet her eyes.

"No one needs me. I can't even be myself anymore without scum like you attacking me for it. That's it, I'm done. Goodbye, bitch." He stormed off to his apartment.

It wa a nice apartment, considering his personal fortune. Which was nonesistant. A few years ago, when he was fifteen, his patents kicked him out for being a lazy ass. His aunt and uncle bought him an apartment and a little furniture to make him feel at home. Originally, his aunt and uncle offered to take him in, but he preferred to be alone. His uncle was filthy rich, and could afford to support the disgruntled teen.

Gamzee threw his backpack on the table, and went to take a shower. Standing and letting the hot water hit his thin frame always made him feel better for some reason.

He decided he couldn't be himself anymore. That he would change. Become someone new. After he was done bathing, he dried himself and went to his small black dresser. In the bottom drawer, he found his lazy day sweatpants, the ones with holes in them. The holes had started to bother him a while ago, so he patched on grey spots to hide the holes.

Gamzee laid down on his double bed and glared at the ceiling.

"How can I be someone new if I'm still me?" He asked his room. "You fucker answer me!" he punched the wall behind his head, leaving a dent in the drywall. "How..." He started to cry.

He turned on the flat screen tv and on MTV was a special on the band Insane Clown Posse. He had hearer of them before from Vriska, but had never given them much thought. A video of a live performance of the song 'Miracles' came on, and Gamzee instantly connected to the words the juggalos were saying.

He had found his new self.