This blows.

You'd think time was moving slow on purpose. Fate is a cruelly deceptive cycle. Life is another one of its predictable routines. Humans might as well be puppets. Controlled by a societal puppeteer. The sad part is we might never see the strings attached to our backs.

I swear I could hear the clock ticking as I watched the hands creep and crawl, hearing the seconds as if my life was a big count down no one wanted to show for.

It was a Friday. It was sixth period. It had been one hell of a day. Need I say more?

The monotony of my life was almost ironic. It taught me to be comfortable with an inevitably slow death, hypnotized by its repetitive, superficial gleam. Same droning teacher. Same friends talking about the same things. Same couple practically sitting in one chair. Or not. I backtracked.

Trouble in paradise, eh?

Angela caught my wandering eye. I tried to smile and pretend that I hadn't been caught staring again. It was kind of hard not to. Even if they weren't practically making out during class like always.

We're actually going to use two chairs today, are we? Looks like he was actually going to pay attention to the teacher. While she tried counting holes in the ceiling.

Huh. No show today, I guess.

Must have microwaved the popcorn a little prematurely. Whoops.

Angela whacked the arm that had unconsciously made its way onto her desk as I leaned in to watch the unfolding drama. What used to be a cheesy romance had now developed into a juicy soap opera. I attempted to look abashed at my obvious interest. And failed.

It beat taking notes on the teacher's lecture, not even gonna lie.

The cliché of my school hierarchy was slightly pathetic. Rich kids thought they owned. And they were only given the power to do so because every average Joe and Jane could only look on, watching their glorious designer-clad asses sashay across the parking lot each morning, wishing they could just get in.

Eff that. It was enough of a chore to get up every freaking morning than to be worrying about not being cool enough. Who ever cared about that after graduation anyways? It was just off to college and on with our lives. Didn't people get it?

At the very top of this food chain, was the golden couple. The crème-de-la-crème. The cream of the crop and all that jazz. The always perfect, hopelessly in love-sick, too-stunning-to look-at couple. Edward and Rosalie. Rosalie and Edward.

Edward was just way too dang hot for his own good. And he knew it. He spent money like I read books. Or whatever. He could pull off a trash bag. When he smiled, you could hear girls fainting. Captain of the soccer team, AP student, and cockiness to boot, he was just. God.

And Rosalie was just a gorgeous birch. If you weren't her friend, why would you even bother talking to her? It was as simple as that. You didn't get in her way. She was untouchable. Too gosh darn perfect to associate with average. Somehow always managing to dress as expensively as her daddy's paycheck. But dumb. Well, at least, I'd like to think so, considering the C test that accidentally ended up on my desk. And that laugh. God. How could you have a brain and still have a snort like that? It was entirely impossible. I was sure of it.

I hated her without even needing to experience her snobiness up close and personal. I mean, she was dating Edward Cullen. Can't think of a better reason to hate her. That pretty much did it for me.

Somehow she had gotten into this class. With me. And Edward. Joy.

It was a hard class on top of listening to their constant cooing.

She couldn't be that funny, could she? He laughed an awful lot. But then again, so did she. Kill me.

Their cuddling seemed to be entirely ignored by everyone except for me. Because I wanted on that. And her off. Just sayin'.

I wasn't jealous. Not really. Just…

He could do better. Really.

The bell tolled like a reminder of a future too far away to look forward to. Over the flurry of backpack zippers and chairs scraping across the floor, I saw Edward shoulder his backpack hastily and turn, shoving his way past the other students bee-lining it for the door to freedom. Or the parking lot. Hmm. I immediately turned to see if I could catch a glimpse of what had just transpired on Rosalie's face. But she wasn't looking at the empty doorway Edward had just run through.

No.

She was looking at me. Like the world had just suddenly come crashing down around her. Like all that crap people spew about true love and soul mates was just proven completely untrue, with facts and evidence to back it up. Like life was just too painful to bear.

I panicked. For in that moment, she looked real. Like a human being. I hurt for her. So, I turned and left the classroom. Leaving behind a girl holding a broken heart in her hands, trying desperately to put it back together.

I wanted not to care. I wanted to move on with my life and dismiss the whole thing as being all in my head. I did.

But when I tried to forget, when I tried to hate her, all I could do was remember. Her haunted eyes, tired and hurt.

I've always believed it was the flaws that made you. The person you became was founded upon where you came from. Being perfect just defined you as another robot, trying to outsmart the world in thinking that this was even realistic, all this business about never having issues or making mistakes. You just can't live like that. Being scarred and having problems meant that you were real. And I believed in real people, in baring the soul. I was attracted to the wounds life left behind on people.

And in that moment, I believed in her.

*******************

Okay, if y'all are still interested, thanks for simply being interested. I'd also like to say that I will be most definitely messing around with these characters. I have a story in my head that requires these characters to be anti-canon or whatever so you jes hafta keep an open mind…

Thanks for putting up with my rant. Please lemme know if you dig this or not. New writers need encouragement. Badly. Helps fight the writers block.