This life is kind of funny. Actually, its mostly funny, unless you don't want it to be.
And I thought the 60's were sort of clean. I get you now, Pete.

The boy next to me in History class sometimes leans over, and he whispers things like we're accomplices. Like we're best buddies. Like he used to when I saw him 4 hours a day, and ate pizza with him at parties. He says things that he doesn't say to the boys next to him. To his friends. Maybe he forgets, for a moment, that he quit me? I don't regret him, just don't understand him. All he talks about is cars. So I sit back and take in only half of Vietnamese wars. Only half of hippies. Only half of the clock spinning its wheels til it makes my life 8:50 a.m. and none of us talk to each other. I'm on a caffeine high, pounding my desk. Who is he? And I'm in second period now. My bright green back is being videotaped by the girl who's last name probably stars with E or F because she sits to the right of me. My teeth start chattering. Who the heck are these people around me? I DON'T LIKE THEM. Except Carrie who sometimes whispers to me. (she's losing her voice)
and Heidi who wants to cook with me and I always walk her cousin Steve to seventh period. Just because its tradition, and also because we like the same concentration of music. I also eat with Erin every once in a while, but who are these other people? And why don't they see me banging my head on my desk? Maybe they can't hear me LAUGHING at them. Laughing at their midnight walks through the snow. Laughing at their prom dresses. Laughing at their parents, who pay for their gas. LAUGHING, because they don't know what the real world IS. They don't understand what it's like to be sitting next to people who think that you're crazy because you don't date. They don't know that what I do on the weekends, or that I'm really not a freak ( I'm trying to be somewhat normal) and that I DO rent movies from Blockbuster, and I do eat chocolate when I need it. (they don't know that. They think I have a crush on Sam Waterston. They don't know me.)

And now. I'm sitting in my hot truck, and she's telling me that she said it, for me, and I nod, in a stuff-mart parking lot, realizing I will never fill my photo album cuz I keep losing money at the gas station (I can't live without some freakin' coffee). I know that half an hour ago, I didn't have enough to say, but I've said it all, now, haven't I?