Just a Freak

I like to dance in the halls.

I like to completely mosh. Like I'm in a fucking moshpit, you know?

It's great. I get the weirdest looks.

I like getting weird looks. It makes me feel like I have control over them.

I just pretend I'm listening to Patti Smith or the New York Dolls or something, you know? Because music like that is great for moshing. Iggy Pop. Sex Pistols. I could go on and on.

I love moshing in the halls. I wave my hair around everywhere and rock out and push people around. One chick pushed me back once.

Someone genuinely asked me if I was looking for the Special Ed. room. I told her to go fuck herself.

Mick the janitor gets me. He laughs and likes to see me mosh. He gets a kick out of. He's got a wife and two kids. His dog'll be having puppies this spring. I told him to name one Kurt Cobain for me. He said sure.

I get detention a lot. My calculus teacher is a total bitch. She gets mad at me when I draw in class. Most of the time I skip it. God, she's such a nose bitch.

I get sent to Guidance a lot, too. My teachers think I need help or something. Like I'm a mental case.

I am a mental case. I can feel it. And I don't really care.

I don't love myself. Far from it. I'm just... here. I don't know how to explain how I feel about myself.

I feel myself having impulses to do things, like mosh in the halls, and my conscience just goes along with it.

I have no common sense.

My Guidance counselour, Mrs. Fritz, makes me come every week to talk. She thinks it's because me parents got divorced. She thinks it's because my brother got hit by a car two years ago. She thinks it's because I've been through shit.

I told her it's because I've always been a mental case. She told me not to call myself a mental case.

So I call myself a freak. Just a freak.