New Kid in New Jersey

I sat cross-legged, slumped against the dirty, white, plastered wall of my new bedroom. The worn, carpeted floor was littered with odd scraps of paper and a number of ragged cardboard boxes, from which all of my clothes and numerous posessions spilled from. We'd only been here since last night, so we'd had barely any time to unpack, although I doubt it will get done by tomorrow. Knowing me, those boxes would still be sitting in exactly the same place in a week's time.

Our new house over here in Newark was nothing like our house way back in Chicago. My old home actually felt like a real home, no matter how awful I was treated over there.
My new house felt like one of those patronising haunted mansions in horror movies, only not as big. You know; with all the dirty, stained windows, the squeaky stairs and the creaking floorboards. It was just like that. And it felt so empty. As if the only people that had ever lived here were ghosts; long gone. It seemed like no one had lived here for years.
This whole state looks pretty damn rough all the way. Graffiti on every wall; cigarette butts scattered all over the streets; shattered glass shards tossed into the roads; nasty smelling garbage spilling from plastic dustbins in the alleyways. It was a hell of a lot different from Chicago, but I knew my life would be better from here.

It was such a sad move, coming to New Jersey. I said it before: Chicago was my home, ever since I was born. I loved it there. I was treated like shit by everyone there, but it was my life.
My mom and Felicity aren't as worried as I am. Felicity, my little sister...she's only six; she doesn't understand. Lucky, I suppose. She doesn't know what she's leaving behind, or what she could be coming to. She didn't have the problems that me and mom had.
Life was awful for me, back home. My home life was a living hell, but my school life was even worse. It was just your typical American high school. Swarming with jocks, preps and stuck-up cheerleaders.

And then there was me. 'Little Frank Iero, The Emo Fag'. That was my name. And I was gay. Yeah, I was an Emo Fag, according to them. Fucking homophobes.
I was singled out. I spent my high school years being knocked senseless by jocks, and shoved into gym lockers during free period and after school hours.
I never had any friends at school. None. Absolutely none at all. I was always pushed aside and forgotten. I was treated like vermin. I was like the horrible sticky stuff that you can never get off the bottom of your shoe. I was a complete and total outcast: hated by everyone and everything.