It's insane.

Humans are insane. The things we'll do just to look 'good', to be 'cool', to have 'friends'. Utterly bewildering.

Example number one: I know a girl, who shall remain nameless for the time being, who gets up at five every morning to shower, shave her legs, blow-dry her hair, straighten her hair, do her hair up, put on a pound of makeup and try on a billion different outfits. She wears a rib-crushing extreme push-up bra just to be considered 'average', and she slaps on her toe-breaking high heels just to be of 'average' height. Sounds uncomfortable? Probably is.

Example two of why humans are insane and peer pressure is evil: Me. Proof? This story will be my proof.

It begins early one Thursday morning in my rat-infested basement. I'm upping the speed on my shitty fifty-dollar treadmill I spent weeks saving up for, and I hurry to keep up with the new speed. My heart's racing dangerously, I'm sweating out of every body part imaginable, and my lungs feel like they're about to explode - and I love it. I check the time, and I only have a half hour before the school bus arrives. I force myself to stop.

I shower and blow-dry my hair quickly. I check my weight, dramatically pausing before I look down at the scale. The number is much too high, and I groan, stepping off the scale.

I throw on my stupidly orange parka, some jeans, socks and shoes and sneak out of the house before my parents wake up and make me eat a decent breakfast. Or any breakfast at all for that matter.

At the bus stop, Kyle and Stan are talking about some physics test, past or future I don't know. Cartman is nowhere to be seen, not that I'm surprised. As soon as he got his licence he stopped 'relying on illiterate retards' to get him places. As soon as Stan sees me, he gets really quiet. Ever since I slept with Wendy he's been distancing himself from me - not that I can blame him. It was a pretty shitty thing I pulled. But I digress.

Kyle smiles and gives me a 'hey dude'. I smile at him as well, trying not to stare at the redhead's sparkling smile. And his vibrant orange waves of hair. And his delectable feminine figure, curving at the hips and going right down to his --

"Did you finish that art assignment?" Kyle asks me. I pull myself out of my thoughts and struggle to recall the art assignment Kyle's talking about. Oh, right, the pastel landscape.

"Almost done," I lie. I had barely started. Every spare moment I have is currently reserved for exercise.

Kyle smiled and nodded approvingly, which made me feel kinda bad for lying. Stan gave me a knowing look, which I did my best to ignore. I stopped taking Stan's shit once he started beating me up every time the football team lost a fucking game. Which was a lot. Lucky for me, there just happened to be a game tonight. So fuck him.

The bus arrives and we all get on, Stan sitting with Wendy and Kyle with his stupid girlfriend who isn't good enough for him, Rebecca. I say it doesn't bother me, but I actually feel pretty left out. But to be honest, I always feel left out.

I cringe as the final bell rings, signifying the end of another school day. Craig and I get out of gym class late, because Craig flipped the teacher off, and I did my best to cover for him. After each of us get a lecture, we head to the change room and I do everything I can to get out before the football team returns from their game against Middle Park High. Unfortunately, Craig didn't seem to get the memo.

"Hey, what's the hurry, man?" he asks, having hardly untied his shoes by the time I'm changed and ready to go.

I shrug. "Football team just got back," I said subtly. Craig gave me a look, he never did take a hint well.

"So?"

I sighed. "Nothing, never mind. You coming over tonight?" Craig scowls at me. Oh yeah. I repeat my sentence in a whisper, even though the room is empty except for the two of us. God forbid anyone find out that Craig likes me. The earth would surely cave in.

Craig shrugged, obviously still irritated by my 'carelessness'. "I guess."

Before I can reply, I hear footsteps and Token's obnoxious voice, and I can tell that the football team lost badly. Stan pipes up to support whatever Token said as they enter the change room.

Clyde snickers at me. "Look who's here, guys," he mutters. A few guys smirk. Craig looks confused. I'm not sure why, however, because Craig not only knows about my issues with these douchebags, but he used to be one. Guess that's why he shouldn't be friends with me, let alone be banging me.

Just feeling grateful I had enough time to get my clothes on, (being beaten to shit in your underwear just makes it a hundred times worse, trust me), I groan as a big dude holds my wrists behind my back and pushes me forward. Craig looks concerned, but doesn't say anything.

Clyde, in his big, bulky uniform, snarls at me and uppercuts my face. I let my head hang down in embarrassment. My nose is bleeding, but I don't care.

After Stan, Token, Kevin, Clyde a few more thugs hit me in various body parts, they let me go. I guess their egos needed only minimal filling today. Stan gives me a guilty, apologetic look before he leaves, and I nod, understanding his need to fit in, even though I kind of hate him for it.

Craig rushes over to me once the football team had changed and left, standing me up from one of the benches lining the room. "Christ, Kenny..." he says. He grabs a paper towel from the bathroom half of the change room and holds it to my nose until the bleeding stops. We leave the school silently together, and I try to ignore the throbbing pains in my ribs, nose, chin, left eye and right shoulder. Nothing too serious for a change.

We'd missed the bus, and now would have to endure a two-hour walk home. I don't mind, seeing as how walking burns calories, but I know how Craig hates walking long distances. And I'm the one who'll have to hear him bitching about it.

But to my surprise, the usual chatterbox Craig is quiet, and slips his hand into mine as soon as we're across the street from the school - a very uncharacteristic move for him. It's almost as though he's grown a sense of empathy or something...

"What -" I begin. Craig squeezes my hand and tells me to shut up.

The whole two hour walk home neither of us said a word. I was rather bewildered, but I tried not to dwell on it. The only time we broke hands was to light up a smoke. When we finally get home it's five-thirty, and I know my dad will be home from the bar soon.

"You still want to come up?" I ask Craig as we step inside my house and out of the cold. My mom's sitting motionlessly in the living room, staring at the floor. Normally she'd ask us if we wanted a snack, but she stopped a few months ago when I stopped saying 'sure'. That was around the time that I broke my mother's heart by not eating. But I don't like to think about that.

Craig nods, blushing slightly. We head upstairs, but before I can even get up the last step, Craig's deprived mouth is on mine, and there are a million things happening at once.

I immediately think of Kyle's soft Jewish features overtaking Craig's rough face.

Then I feel guilty for thinking of someone else while kissing Craig.

Then I hear the opening of the front door.

Then I realize that my dad is now staring directly at Kyle and I. Erm, Craig and I.

And then finally, I hear my dad yelling obscenities at me. Craig forcefully backs away from me, terrified of my dad. And honestly, I can't blame him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', Kenny?" my dad shouts angrily. He's definitely drunk.

"Christ, dad, calm down!" I yell down to him. Unfortunately, this only makes him more pissed, and he's now stumbling up the stairs, falling almost every step of the way. He's murmuring something about kicking my ass, but I know he won't. He's a good guy deep down inside. But the alcohol sometimes makes him forget that.

When my dad's finally at the top of the steps, he leans over Craig, who's staring at him in sheer terror. "You," he says, staggering. I can smell Jack's on his breath from five feet away. "Yeh keep away from m'boy, faggot," he manages to slur. I try desperately to keep my cool.

"Dad, it's okay," I say through barred teeth. I know, however, that there's no use fighting with someone who's wasted. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

My dad glares at me, but he walks away, muttering under his breath about how 'he didn't raise no queermo.' I ignore it and sigh as soon as he disappears into his room to pass out. Craig just looked at me. I guess even though we've known one another since first grade, he really doesn't know shit about me at all. But then, few people really do.

I groan in exasperation. "Ken, uh, I'm gonna go," Craig says quietly, heading downstairs.

I don't say anything, and simply watch him leave. I've grown numb to this type of situation: somebody realizes I'm hurting, and they just walk away. It happens all too often.

A/N: Urg, slow start, I know. It'll get better... hopefully :)

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