His name was Reef. I'm not sure why his parents had named him that, (my theory is they felt this deep, complex inspiration by staring at a bush for too long strung up on a shitload of meth). Somehow though, it suited him. Maybe it was his nicely messed up black hair which fell right above his eyes, or maybe it was his 'fuck you, up the rules, let's go anarchy but I still love poetry' attitude and style. Whatever it was though, he attracted me like ten dollars to a cheap hooker. Only problem was, I didn't really fit into his 'crowd'. The whole emo in a nameless garage band phase had passed a long time ago. I chopped my black and blonde locks off and kept my light brown hair neatly at my neck. My once extra small hello kitty and band tee-shirts had been replaced by colourful tank tops under pastel coloured sweaters. My jeans remained skinny, although they certainly did not have as much pizzaz as they used to. Truth is, I didn't feel like being emo anymore. What was the point? It was just a stupid phase I knew I'd grow out of eventually. Maybe that's why I changed so fast. Maybe I didn't feel the magic and happiness of being a youthful emo kid because I was always worried about my age. Now looking at some of these other emo kids in the halls at school, I sure as hell am glad I grew up fast. Nope. I didn't miss it at all. Still, I would have liked to have a friend (or at least acquaintance) like Reef. His special looks were sadly reserved for girls with multiple ear piercing and caked on makeup. The type of girls who loved hairspray and highlighted their heads monthly. The type of girls who would look cute in almost anything, yet spent most of their money on clothes in Hot Topic. The type of girls who also played in a band and rocked out with the boys. Those types of girls. The types of girls he looked at, were the types of girls that weren't a thing like me…