My feet thump and thunder against the concrete as I sprint as fast as I can manage down the sidewalk towards the school. I do my best to ignore the burning feeling in my lungs and my legs. I knew that the bell for first period had most likely rung by now. And oh my God, today couldn't have possibly gotten off to a worse start than this. Not only did I not have time for some form of breakfast; But, I was barely able to get my outfit together and I missed the bus because apparently my alarm broke sometime last night when my cat knocked it over. Holy shit today was already a total fucking mess. I felt so panicked that I could rival a some Britney Spears wannabe who was riddled with anxiety about whether or not they could make it onto the cheerleading team.

It was disgusting.

In my [left/right] hand I carried a small stack of music sheets that I hadn't had any time to stuff into my bag when I was still home with my shitty conformist family having an argument. Of course my faggy emo brother had already driven himself to school and nobody could be bothered to wake me up at all. Ugh!

At least I was almost at the school, just barely a few meters away from the side part where the dumpsters stood untouched.

I try my very best to hold my bag out in front of me, keeping it at far enough distance where I wouldn't trip over it. Carefully, I attempt to neatly stuff the papers inside without crumpling them up by stubbing them on one of my new textbooks or notebooks. However, they didn't seem to want to go in very nicely and I was in such a fucking rush-that and the ground of this shitty little mountain town was covered in snow and apparently ice. Plus! Plus, it was extremely windy outside and I only have two hands and one attention span.

So, thanks to my existence drowning in misery and suffering, I, of course, just because whatever-God hates me, manage to trip over an obnoxiously large crack in the sidewalk. A momentary feeling of weightlessness hits me as I get flung downward through the air for a short moment. My body almost instantaneously connects with the sidewalk and for a short second I felt nothing. However, the pain is quick to set in, prompting a a groan from me. Frustrated, I push myself up off of the sidewalk and get up on my aching, scratched up knees. I rub my hurting chin (that had connected the hardest with the sidewalk, apparently) and peel my tightly shut eyes open. They of course widen to the size of saucers as I watch my note sheets immediately get swept up by a gust of wind. I watch as the papers float around me in something resembling a gentle tornado of music. It looked like something out of some fucking Disney princess movie. Fuck!

Whilst frantically chanting the words 'No!', 'Shit!', and 'Fuck!' over and over again, I practically throw myself up onto my feet and proceed to run around like some conformist chicken with it's head cut off. Hastily, I snatch the note sheets out of the air and gather them up in a messy pile in my arms that I hold tightly against my chest. If I lose any one of these sheets then the entire song is ruined!

Full set of sheets or not though, I was definitely going to lose the neat order I originally had them organized in. Dammit!

After gathering what seems to be all the notes I could, I saunter over to my abandoned backpack with a hatred driven scowl and an armful of papers. I would have to sort these out during second period. Great. Of course this is what I get for offering to give that music teacher, what's his face, more original music pieces for band and chorus.

Disgruntled and nearly raging, I storm over to the full pink backpack that had flown out of my hand when I'd tripped. I get down on my knees, sitting on them whilst blatantly ignoring the cold of the sidewalk as it bit and nipped at my exposed knees whilst I slapped the sheets down onto the sidewalk. After trapping the aforementioned music sheets underneath my knee, I begin to gather up all of the spilled contents of my bag. I curse my worthless family to the deepest depths of hell for my current situation as I shove various things into my bag. With the force of a thousand suns, I pick up the papers and begin stuffing them into my bag, still doing my best to not crinkle them any further through my nearly blinding anger.

"Uh, hello?" A gruff voice from behind me suddenly pipes up

I nearly jump out of my skin from surprise at the sudden visitor. Speedily, I flip myself over onto my butt so that I could be face to face with whatever asshole had decided to startle me. With my knees up to my chest and my hands placed behind me, palms against the concrete, I look up. Some edgy boy-possibly around my age-eyeing me in a judgemental confused sort of way, stood before me. In his left hand, he held a paper covered in various music notes and lines that I quickly recognized to be mine, whilst his right hand held onto a cane.

His hair was curly and styled into neat fluffy bangs where only a few stray curls hung over his bright green eyes. Said eyes were lined in lightly smudged black eyeliner while the rest of his face was untouched by makeup, clearly showing that he was just naturally that pale. He wore a long black trench coat that hung open and reached just barely above the back of his knees. The open trench coat revealed a bright white dress shirt that was tucked into his black almost leather looking dress pants. Around his neck he wore a fluffy grey wool scarf that matched his fingerless gloves that allowed his painted nails (they were black too, surprise, surprise) to show. From what I could tell, peeking out from the scarf was what seemed to be a large ribbon with two ends-and by large, I mean the hanging ends were at least three to four inches wide. Beneath that he wore a large amount thin, yet long droopy necklaces while his other jewelry was simply just various chains that were hooked on his black and silver belt. He wore a pair of shiny black boots that were covered in small belts that overlapped the black laces under them.

Holy shit, if this kid isn't the most emo I've ever seen, then I might as well throw myself off a cliff because it can't get more emo than this.

"Is there.. something wrong with you, conformist?" He questions

To say that I was offended would be an understatement.

I narrow my eyes at him, glaring daggers as a deep frown appears on my face. With a huff, I push myself up onto my feet-and-after a moment of dusting myself off, I snatch the paper from his filthy hands. How dare this emo fuck use the 'c' word on me! Conformist was a goth word only!

My free hand curls up into a tight fist that probably causes me to dig crescents into the palm from my bubbling anger. With the hand that now held the paper (which was completely scrunched up thanks to my harsh grip by the way) I stick an accusing finger in his face.

"Don't call me a conformist, fucking emo scum!" I snap "And don't touch my music sheets!"

He stares at me for a moment, his almost black face immediately darkening to one of anger as I sharply turn around. I bend over, grabbing the top strap of my bag so that I could stuff the music sheet inside along with the rest. I zip the damn thing shut and slip it on over my shoulders. By the time I turned back around to look at the kid, he was clearly seething.

"What did you just call me?" He questions, venom dripping from his tongue

"What?" I spitefully hiss "You can't handle people calling you out for what you really are?"

"Are you fucking serious!?" He exclaims

He tosses his arms up into the air as he shouts, his cane going with them. The stranger glares at me with hatred in his eyes as he lowers his arm. He steps towards me, getting in my face as he jabs me in the chest, prompting me to fall back a couple steps when I failed to prepare my stance.

"I am not a fucking emo, you conformist fuck! I'm goth!" He roars "You worthless fucking Brittney wannabes are all the same with your absolute bullshit!"

Not being one to back down easily, I get right back in his face, prompting him to step back a couple steps.

"Who are you calling a wannabe? You lame-o twilight reject copycat!" I yell "I'm pastel goth, not some busted ass conformist barbie doll!"

"Pastel goth? Pastel goth?!" He echos "That's hardly even goth!"

"Says you!" I argue "What are you? Traditional? That's like the closest you can possibly get to being a fucking faggy vamp kid! That's hardly even goth!"

"Bullshit!" He counters "Traditional existed way before those faggy vamp kids did! They just took our style from us because they're so fucking lazy! But at least we don't walk around looking like a depressed unicorn vomited all over us!"

"Oh fuck you!" I shout

"Fuck you too!" He shouts back

With loud grunts, we both turn our backs to each other and proceed to cross our arms over our chests. Now standing in an angry silence, we manage to overhear the bell signalling the end of second period to ring. I turn my head, allowing my arms to loosen up a bit as I look at the large orange building. I let out an annoyed groan of frustration, figuring that I have to be the first one to give in and turn back around.

"What?" I hear him scoff "Need to get to class just like the rest of the conformists in there? Figures."

I glance over at him, gritting my teeth as I growl at him. I storm up to him. But, quickly decide that I shouldn't start a fight on my first day of school. No matter how much this jackass deserved it. I choose to walk past him instead, and make sure to bump shoulders with him as I pass him by.

"Black Basic." I hiss into his ear as I pass by

I continue walking, listening to the insult he threw back at me with boiling blood.

"Pastel Poser." He spits

I flip him off and continue walking. I didn't have time for this shit today.

Upon hearing the flick of a lighter from behind me, I'm suddenly reminded that I had failed to smoke a cigarette the entire morning. Maybe that was why I'm angrier than usual? Or perhaps it's because my morning has been absolute dog shit.

Probably the latter.

As I approach the school building, the urge to smoke slowly begins to consume at me as I do my best to hold off on it, as I was already late enough.

But I have a really weak will.

As I turn off of the sidewalk and briskly head up the walkway, I end up giving in. With a few quiet extra grumbles of curses toward the nameless boy I had just left in the dust-along with a few directed towards my shitty older brother-I stuff my hand into the [left/right] pocket of my fuzzy black jacket and pull out my clear, silver colored glitter covered carton of cigarettes. With a soft sigh as I stop in front of the few steps bringing me up to the front double doors, I pop it open. I grab a cigarette with a light blue colored filter and take it between my fingers. After putting the cigarette between my lips and shutting the pack along with putting it away, I finally pull out my zodiac lighter and light the damn stick.

And oh God, did the first inhale of the toxins immediately calm me down.

I let out a small sigh as I slip the bag off my shoulders and drop it to the pavement. I could go in the building a bit later-I mean-I was already incredibly late anyway. So a few extra minutes shouldn't matter.