I've never been a part of the popular crowd. Hell, I've never really been a part of any real crowd of friends, but it's not because I'm some angsty little mall-goth who wears too much eyeliner and listens to songs that usually sound the same and consist of the same lyrics rejumbled with slightly different tune all-day or some chic indie prat who has some self obsession issues. Out of which all of the above have tendencies of wearing too much make up and practice narcissism (despite usual lack of hygiene).

Anyway, moving onto an explanation to my randomness of the whole "High School Grouping."

You see, I have some friends, but I have one best friend that I'd never let go of even if I was a leper. We've known each other since we were still small enough to fit inside of large carry-on luggage, the only catch is that no one has a clue and has genuinely given a shit for years. Because this best friend so happens to be Warren Peace.

WAIT A TICK AND READ ON COMPADRE!

Most people that know me would seriously ask if I had downed any shrooms if they had ever even heard his name escape my lips. Because five days a week and seven hours a day, he exists in their world. Those golden aura fruitcakes with too much money and not enough sex . . . Ew. Lash. Never mind. That kids a whore, scratch the last one out.

They have him then, but when he leaves . . . it's different.

He's all mine, my best friend. We spend hours fixing his bike, watching Ed Wood worthy science fiction, getting in trouble for sneaking into my house late, dance all night at clubs, absolutely positively everything. For me seven hours a day, five days a week is nothing, I get him all to myself minus the whole "I work for the Chinese Restaurant Slave Master" ordeal and NO just because he's friends with a bitchin' girl like me doesn't mean he gets all soft. That boy has been built like a rock . . . Like a Chevy.

The only time he's ever asked for help from me was for when he was having hella problems at home (which have never been few and far between), then he'd come over and I'd knock him out. Well, not in a painful way.

The genetic gifts so humbly bestowed on me have more pain than privilege. I'm a bi-gifted child with one power that screws me over and one that I've found relatively useless so far, the ability change gravity when climbing or crawling on any surface and the ability to put others to sleep.

The latter has made me shit out of luck because the downside is I can never sleep. I mean it doesn't really affect me other than permanent dark eyes, but I get really bored and if I take any sedatives or antipsychotics for insomnia they make me extremely sluggish and have impaired my better judgment. By the morning I end up excreted them from my body either naturally or from nausea caused by vertigo...Anways...

I know it's bugging you by now with the one question that I can barely explain, 'Why do you avoid each other?'.

Not only is it a close friend, mask thing, but on my part it legitimately has to do with "The Gray." They've been the one thing I could never reveal to Warren even though he lives in a completely different plain, he can never know. Where Warren exists, he's quite conscious of the ignorance that seeps into the pores of the population, but he's so consumed by rage and hatred, that he floats in place where he'd rather not care or admit to anything else around.

I believed that until recently. Homecoming.

Now that he's taking little Stronghold and company under his wing he's been telling me over and over that he's trying to expand and take on something different in life, but it feels like he's just trying to bury who he really is by surrounding himself with those who are golden unlike him and he's burying me in the process.

A couple nights later after lots of thought, we were sitting in the park near my house in an ancient oak when I spoke to him through the darkness with unwanted dry eyes "If you can be seen with them, why not me?" Simple enough, right?

After a few seconds of just knowing his eyebrows were furrowed together I heard him sigh, but after waiting a few moments I slowly turned and looked at him. even in the dark his endless rage held torches in his eyes.

Feeling suffocated by the humidity and heat of the dying days of summer, the proximity and moment became too much. I felt the need to escape like a trapped jaguar. I placed my hands on the solid branch and flung myself off onto the ground, my left knee popping as it always has when stiff. My voice shuddered in the pitch as I looked toward a streetlight a hundred paces away illuminating an empty road, "Acting only works on a crowd, princess."

He didn't say anything as he watched me walk away, but I knew his reply "You should know."

My best friend is a total bitch for giving in to ...all of this.

At first I just wanted to run. It was like I was the Tinman from The Wizard of Oz and my body was oil-less for most of my life, but what had transpired was definitely a match for my gasoline soak soul and events to come. My muscles burned and ached with every new step and there was a taste in my mouth that had developed from this. I could feel perspiration on my back after a good fifteen minutes of solid sprinting.

It was a way for me to clear my head and breath the city air, and possible one of my more impulsive moments. But when you let someone envelope that much of your life and love, being near them is not on the top of your list of things to do. Running as fast as my body could take me, I didn't stop, not until I began to noticed places that I had been monitoring for "Gray" activity. I kind of had to slow too, my lungs were begging me to stop and sound was obstructed by the mega-pounding of blood in my ears.

Suddenly my foot caught a crack and I dropped to the ground skidding on the paved sidewalk, ripping open my jeans at the knee and scraping my flesh as my upper body fell forward with a soft noise. Copper tastes filled my mouth and I realized that my teeth were biting my lower lip so hard it was punctured and bleeding a little. I felt my own hurt and rage build up inside and then wear me down in waves of discontent. Then slowly I felt my heart even out and my breathing calm.

For some reason, I felt better than ever for running, so I started laughing. I felt as though I fell folly to myself and felt foolish for investing so much into someone who I thought I trusted, who I thought was magnificent and different. In all honestly I was mentally and emotionally overcompensating for the pain. You would think years of being friends would have taught me to read him better.

My eyes were clenched shut and I was laughing hysterically like cackling hyena, so hard in fact that my stomach muscles began to ache. Until I heard a soft voice whisper in my ear like the wind delivering a secret message, "Angels even fall asleep on the watch."

Then I was out like a light. Finally sleeping, but there are no dreams for the wicked. Just the never-ending black.