You Can Run Away With Me Anytime You Want

The New Jersey air was cold and harsh today, pushing against my worn face, whiping my long hair into my eyes.
A short guy with a blue hoodie and Nikes walked past me, disguising a word that sounded suprisingly like 'emo' with a cough. His friend nugded him, proud of his friends stupid and childish attempt at insulting me. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
When we got to the end of the street, Mikey went left and I went right. I stood alone on the pavement, desperatly hoping for the bus to turn up this second. I stood there for ten fucking minutes everyday.
When the bus eventually arrived, i sat down in the only one -seater (which seemed like a little victory, getting the last seat, and getting it all to myslef), pushed my headphones into my ears and turned the music up as loud as it would go.
Music was the only thing that silenced the world. But sometimes, i need real silence. Just...nothingness. I crave it, even though nothing ever happens.
I'm so fucking fickle. I'm depressed because everythings happening, and i'm depressed because nothings happening. I think its because nothing is happening to me personally. I'm a secondary victim, a spectator. I want drama, i want passion. I dont even know what i want.
School loomed in the distance, and the familar feeling of hate and dread filled my stomach. You'd have thought that people would have got the emo jokes out of their system, and left me alone. But that hadn't happened. Once the 'emo' label had stuck, people were intensly intruiged. They wanted to define me, and i wasn't having it, which scared the shit of them.
The bus stopped. I sigh and climb off, after a brief push from Nathan. I ignored him and carried on walking. I walk up the pathway to school, clinging to my sides. The wind seems even colder here, freezing my hands. I stood in my little corner i'd given myself. We had to wait ten minutes before school to open because the fuckers liked torturing us more, to laugh at our inferiority.
Jesus, Gerard, you're such a fucking self-important asshole! I thought, trying to cheer myself up. It was a pretty lame attempt, but i hoped it would work.
I watched people pass by me. They all looked the same to me. The girls with their fake tan, poofed up, back combed hair, matted with hairspray, blue jeans, and different variations of colour of their t-shirts, but they were all the same type. I saw a girl pass with a Justin Beiber tshirt, and i nearly gagged. The boys all had the Varisty baseball jackets on that they'd never usually wear, but somehow they seemed to be in fashion at the moment, so every guy wore them. The cheerleaders did too, as well as the girls who wanted to show off the fact that they had managed to suck off their way to 'dating' a football player. The boys wore baggy blue jeans, Nike or other sports brands tshirts, or with crude phrases on that were supposed to be funny.
Fuck, you sound like an old man!
I rolled my eyes at myself.
The doors opened, and everyone rushed in. I'd rather stand in the cold than rush into the hellhole.
The home room was quiet, just Fran and her bitches giggling in a corner. I sat in my place and got my comic out. It was Mikey's latest X-Men. He wouldn't let me borrow it, so i stole it when he was out. He can't have missed it that much or he'd have noticed its absence. Although, Mikey isn't very observant at the best of times.
"Hey, hey! G-Wait, what's his name!" I heard Fran giggle across from me.
"Gerard?" Sophie suggested. She'd been in my form for four years and she didn't even know my name.
"Gerard!" Fran shouted. I sigh and look up at her. I'm in no mood to pretend i like her.
"What?"
"Are you an emo?" She asked through glances back at her fake friends.
"Fuck off" I replied. Fran burst out laughing, as did her pathetic little friends.
"Language!" Fran mocked outrage.
I ignored her. My amazing comebacks would be wasted on her, she was too thick to understand any of them anyway.
I turned my head back round to my comic, and as the pages pictures passed before my eyes, more people filtered into the classroom. Fran filled in Jack of our little discussion and he thought it was hilarious.
"Shut up and be quiet" Mr. Inton sighed, walking into the room. He sat down and ignored us for fifteen minutes, while everyone carried on shouting at one another. I sit on a four seat table by myself, so i'm always pretty much left alone. Most of the time i love it, other times, its a pain in the ass.
I scribbled through first and second period, i can't even remember what lessons they were. Break approached, and i decided i'd yet again go to the library, inhabit my little corner, and read my comic in piece.
Third was OK. I saw with Tom, who i could actually talk to, mostly about the work, but i actually walked to him. My mouth actually moved with speech, not just breathing.
The rest of the day hummed past in a dull blur.