I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Being Who I Am
I’m tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
I don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
Within the first two classes of the day I’d already been sent to the principal’s office. Apparently combat boots are not in the dress code. All it says is black shoes. Besides that and having the new kid walk into English nothing exciting has happened.
Now I have lunch…it’s the only period of the day I absolutely hate.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I chant over and over as I’m dragged down the hall towards the courtyard where everyone eats lunch. I’m so sick of all this bullshit.
I plaster on a fake smile as Amy turns her head towards me, “I still think it’s stupid that you’re wearing that; everyone knows who you are.”
My fingers touch the nametag she is referring to. I put it on my forehead this morning for laughs. Amy, not finding it amusing, moved it to my blazer. I don’t get it. All the things says is; ‘Hello my name is Bob Bryar’s adopted sister, now fuck off.’ I think Amy has forgotten what humor is. Then again the principal didn’t find it too amusing either. Perhaps they both have mental problems.
“I don’t,” I respond quietly.
“You could be so cute,” Amy babbles on, “with that English accent, those blue eyes…blonde hair. Oh, but no, you have to dress like an emo girl, wear dark make up, get tattoos and have that electric red hair.”
I just ignore her, eyeing the boy from earlier who is sitting a few inches away from my ‘group.’
Somehow, this kid, Mikey, managed to get himself noticed by all the jocks that inhabit my English class. I still don’t understand how this wimpy freshman managed to be smart enough to get into a Junior English class. Freshman plus juniors almost always equal disaster. When you stand in front of a class with a scared shitless look, like Mikey did, jocks normally get the urge to beat the crap out of you. I’ve still not figured out why.
Needless to say this kid managed to get pegged in the hallway. Being the last to leave class I helped him. To tell the truth normally I wouldn’t have stopped but this is the kid I continually have odd dreams about. I felt l had to help him…really I’m just hoping the dreams will stop.
“Personally I don’t see why image matters so much,” I say to Amy, biting off part of my carrot stick. “Shouldn’t people like you for you, not because of your accent, clothes or hair?”
“Oh, Amber, you spend too much time with your –” she look at my name tag just trying to piss me off – “adoptive brother.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, looking back over to where Frank is sitting. He smiles, waving at me. Sitting next to Frank is a boy with a white face and jet-black hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I swear I’ve seen him before. Watching him for a little longer I realize it's Gerard Way, a guy I end up seeing at almost every party I go to. He looks a lot different in the day time.
“That creepy kid is looking at you,” Amy says, referring to Mikey who has his chin resting on his knees, he looks really torn up.
“Different doesn’t equal creepy, Amy,” I remind her.
“Whatever, they all look like creeps,” with that Amy leans over to kiss her boyfriend, Adam, who is a senior. If anyone looks creepy it’s him. He looks like a squirrel on cocaine, always wearing this huge smile on his face, his eyes never quite focused on one thing.
Rolling my eyes I continue to watch Mikey, who looks absolutely miserable. I wish there was something I could do. I have a feeling I know exactly how he feels. Everyone in this school is so judgmental. You either change who you are to fit their standards or your life is a living hell.
“Are you even listening?” questions Amy pulling me away from my thoughts.
“No, not really,” I reply, not caring what her reaction will be.
“I was saying….”
I cut her off, “Here's the thing, I don't really give a fuck.”
“What?”
“Look Amy, I just don’t give a shit anymore. You’re annoying as fuck, the cheerleading uniforms you picked out are ugly pieces of shit, you are a slut for sleeping with Jonny while you and Adam where on break, and also I think you should do something about the caterpillar growing on you upper lip.”
With that I get up and walk away. I’m so done with all the cheerleading bullshit. I’m going to be my own person and they can deal with it.
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
I don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
Within the first two classes of the day I’d already been sent to the principal’s office. Apparently combat boots are not in the dress code. All it says is black shoes. Besides that and having the new kid walk into English nothing exciting has happened.
Now I have lunch…it’s the only period of the day I absolutely hate.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I chant over and over as I’m dragged down the hall towards the courtyard where everyone eats lunch. I’m so sick of all this bullshit.
I plaster on a fake smile as Amy turns her head towards me, “I still think it’s stupid that you’re wearing that; everyone knows who you are.”
My fingers touch the nametag she is referring to. I put it on my forehead this morning for laughs. Amy, not finding it amusing, moved it to my blazer. I don’t get it. All the things says is; ‘Hello my name is Bob Bryar’s adopted sister, now fuck off.’ I think Amy has forgotten what humor is. Then again the principal didn’t find it too amusing either. Perhaps they both have mental problems.
“I don’t,” I respond quietly.
“You could be so cute,” Amy babbles on, “with that English accent, those blue eyes…blonde hair. Oh, but no, you have to dress like an emo girl, wear dark make up, get tattoos and have that electric red hair.”
I just ignore her, eyeing the boy from earlier who is sitting a few inches away from my ‘group.’
Somehow, this kid, Mikey, managed to get himself noticed by all the jocks that inhabit my English class. I still don’t understand how this wimpy freshman managed to be smart enough to get into a Junior English class. Freshman plus juniors almost always equal disaster. When you stand in front of a class with a scared shitless look, like Mikey did, jocks normally get the urge to beat the crap out of you. I’ve still not figured out why.
Needless to say this kid managed to get pegged in the hallway. Being the last to leave class I helped him. To tell the truth normally I wouldn’t have stopped but this is the kid I continually have odd dreams about. I felt l had to help him…really I’m just hoping the dreams will stop.
“Personally I don’t see why image matters so much,” I say to Amy, biting off part of my carrot stick. “Shouldn’t people like you for you, not because of your accent, clothes or hair?”
“Oh, Amber, you spend too much time with your –” she look at my name tag just trying to piss me off – “adoptive brother.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, looking back over to where Frank is sitting. He smiles, waving at me. Sitting next to Frank is a boy with a white face and jet-black hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I swear I’ve seen him before. Watching him for a little longer I realize it's Gerard Way, a guy I end up seeing at almost every party I go to. He looks a lot different in the day time.
“That creepy kid is looking at you,” Amy says, referring to Mikey who has his chin resting on his knees, he looks really torn up.
“Different doesn’t equal creepy, Amy,” I remind her.
“Whatever, they all look like creeps,” with that Amy leans over to kiss her boyfriend, Adam, who is a senior. If anyone looks creepy it’s him. He looks like a squirrel on cocaine, always wearing this huge smile on his face, his eyes never quite focused on one thing.
Rolling my eyes I continue to watch Mikey, who looks absolutely miserable. I wish there was something I could do. I have a feeling I know exactly how he feels. Everyone in this school is so judgmental. You either change who you are to fit their standards or your life is a living hell.
“Are you even listening?” questions Amy pulling me away from my thoughts.
“No, not really,” I reply, not caring what her reaction will be.
“I was saying….”
I cut her off, “Here's the thing, I don't really give a fuck.”
“What?”
“Look Amy, I just don’t give a shit anymore. You’re annoying as fuck, the cheerleading uniforms you picked out are ugly pieces of shit, you are a slut for sleeping with Jonny while you and Adam where on break, and also I think you should do something about the caterpillar growing on you upper lip.”
With that I get up and walk away. I’m so done with all the cheerleading bullshit. I’m going to be my own person and they can deal with it.
Notes
Author's Note: Remember that reviewing/subscribing makes the world go round. Also it might help me to update a bit faster lol. Anyway, happy reading. :)Song: Numb By Linkin Park
@KidFromYesterday
Yay!!! Thank you, this story has been really great, as well as your others!!
10/2/16