I Never Meant to Be so Cliche
What We Are
They make it sound horrific in a way. Cliche. I never meant to fall into the status quo of being the silent boy in the back of the class room. It jut sort of happened that way. My entire life was cliche really. It seemed like a story someone would tell, or maybe it was like the books you read late at night that you have a secret fantasy of.
Everyone does here, have that fantasy, at least. Everyone wants to be the first person to hear the mute boy talk. They all want to turn him into something he could never be. They all feel like if they heard me spoke just once that they would have a certain power over everyone else, over me. Like I said, I never meant to be like this.
My life was the same events over and over again. They never alternated. They never changed. They always stayed the same, and I was okay with that. I didn't like it when things changed. Change only causes misery in the end.
I tried to walk past the many students who filled the hall ways. Some moved out of my way. Some stared. They all were judging me, always judging me. Some gave me sympathetic looks. They thought they knew me. The ones who still looked thought they could tell me my entire life with one word. Broken. That's what they all say at least.
I wasn't broken. I was just smart. Everybody thought if they heard me talk they would have power over me. Well, they're wrong. Me not talking gives me power over them. I was like the movie that made them sit on the edge of their seats, waiting for the best part of the film to come, but it never does. They all still wait though. They were stupid for waiting. Waiting gets you no where.
I slipped in the narrow door way dodging the looks like daggers people gave me. I just went to the back of the room, sat in my seat, and sat there quietly.
The teacher called role. Everyone said that they were present like ducks in a line telling you to pay attention to them. They said it in a perfect row, in perfect monotone, in perfect perfection. They all were perfect, or so they thought.
The teacher called my name and looked up briefly to see my raised hand. They didn't bother anymore. No one really cared after they realized their little plot wasn't going to work. They each had their own that ended in its own special failure in the end.
She called the name of the boy who was supposed to sit next to me. He never showed. Everything past the second week, he bailed on. He came to his other classes, just not this one. I once thought it was me, but realized that was stupid. He didn't know me.
This school was like any other. It was cliche like any other. This school had the typical bitches and jocks, the stoners, the nerds, the flamboyant ones, the 'I'm too good for you' ones, the band geeks, the normal geeks, and the neighborhood freak. Oh, and let's not forget the oh so devilish bad boy. That was the kid who skipped, if you didn't get that.
He was probably the only other kid who everyone else was fascinated with. No one knew anything about him, so he had that sense of the mysterious bad ass. I wonder if he hates the looks as much as I do.
I've seen he a couple times. He was always doing something he wasn't supposed to. He was always doing something that made other people all the more interested. I could tell he ad I could never get along. He strives for the attention. I ran from it.
I could also tell that I was forever going to live in a world where the people who weren't normal were the ones who everyone else secretly wanted to be. No one really wanted to be the follower in the back of the line. They all wanted to be followed, to feel important.
That's why they seemed obsessed with the school freak and the school bad ass. We didn't really fit in anywhere. We made our own lines, and it was so amazing to them that we did. They wanted to be like us, They wanted to be able to stand out just a little bit more than they did because if they did they would have something that no one else did. That's what we all really want. Something for someone else to be jealous of. We all were self-absorbed, back stabbing, jealous monsters just waiting for the day when someone else was worse than us. No one wanted to be the poster boy for monsters. No one except him.
Yes, no one but him would ever want to be known for something that was considered terrible. No one wanted to be classified as bad. Everyone wanted to be good, so they could go home to their mothers and get treats like goods little boys and girls.
That's when I realized I could never like him. He was too different. He messed with the status quo. The status quo was all I had to make my life function probably, and he always found a way to screw it up. I would never enjoy his company, or say that I was pleased to meet him.
No, I, Max Green, would forever and always hate the school bad boy, Ronnie Radke.
Everyone does here, have that fantasy, at least. Everyone wants to be the first person to hear the mute boy talk. They all want to turn him into something he could never be. They all feel like if they heard me spoke just once that they would have a certain power over everyone else, over me. Like I said, I never meant to be like this.
My life was the same events over and over again. They never alternated. They never changed. They always stayed the same, and I was okay with that. I didn't like it when things changed. Change only causes misery in the end.
I tried to walk past the many students who filled the hall ways. Some moved out of my way. Some stared. They all were judging me, always judging me. Some gave me sympathetic looks. They thought they knew me. The ones who still looked thought they could tell me my entire life with one word. Broken. That's what they all say at least.
I wasn't broken. I was just smart. Everybody thought if they heard me talk they would have power over me. Well, they're wrong. Me not talking gives me power over them. I was like the movie that made them sit on the edge of their seats, waiting for the best part of the film to come, but it never does. They all still wait though. They were stupid for waiting. Waiting gets you no where.
I slipped in the narrow door way dodging the looks like daggers people gave me. I just went to the back of the room, sat in my seat, and sat there quietly.
The teacher called role. Everyone said that they were present like ducks in a line telling you to pay attention to them. They said it in a perfect row, in perfect monotone, in perfect perfection. They all were perfect, or so they thought.
The teacher called my name and looked up briefly to see my raised hand. They didn't bother anymore. No one really cared after they realized their little plot wasn't going to work. They each had their own that ended in its own special failure in the end.
She called the name of the boy who was supposed to sit next to me. He never showed. Everything past the second week, he bailed on. He came to his other classes, just not this one. I once thought it was me, but realized that was stupid. He didn't know me.
This school was like any other. It was cliche like any other. This school had the typical bitches and jocks, the stoners, the nerds, the flamboyant ones, the 'I'm too good for you' ones, the band geeks, the normal geeks, and the neighborhood freak. Oh, and let's not forget the oh so devilish bad boy. That was the kid who skipped, if you didn't get that.
He was probably the only other kid who everyone else was fascinated with. No one knew anything about him, so he had that sense of the mysterious bad ass. I wonder if he hates the looks as much as I do.
I've seen he a couple times. He was always doing something he wasn't supposed to. He was always doing something that made other people all the more interested. I could tell he ad I could never get along. He strives for the attention. I ran from it.
I could also tell that I was forever going to live in a world where the people who weren't normal were the ones who everyone else secretly wanted to be. No one really wanted to be the follower in the back of the line. They all wanted to be followed, to feel important.
That's why they seemed obsessed with the school freak and the school bad ass. We didn't really fit in anywhere. We made our own lines, and it was so amazing to them that we did. They wanted to be like us, They wanted to be able to stand out just a little bit more than they did because if they did they would have something that no one else did. That's what we all really want. Something for someone else to be jealous of. We all were self-absorbed, back stabbing, jealous monsters just waiting for the day when someone else was worse than us. No one wanted to be the poster boy for monsters. No one except him.
Yes, no one but him would ever want to be known for something that was considered terrible. No one wanted to be classified as bad. Everyone wanted to be good, so they could go home to their mothers and get treats like goods little boys and girls.
That's when I realized I could never like him. He was too different. He messed with the status quo. The status quo was all I had to make my life function probably, and he always found a way to screw it up. I would never enjoy his company, or say that I was pleased to meet him.
No, I, Max Green, would forever and always hate the school bad boy, Ronnie Radke.
♠ ♠ ♠
Little different from my normal work.