I’m not seeing the fun of it, so far.

I never had the desire to fit in. Betray myself to follow the universal model of how a teenager should live. Alter the fundamental makeup of my being for the sake of conformity in the form of social acceptance. It has always been irrelevant what others thought as they laid their disapproving eyes upon me.

I couldn’t imagine living in a world where I didn’t exist in my truest form.

Rant over

If you are one of those kids who shops using the first day of a new school year as an accuse to shop, leave this blog. If you’re like me and want to know the appeal of spending money to impress your classmates with the latest fashion, keep reading.

It seems like the start of school is more of an extended fashion show then the next step closer to graduation. A showcase so that everyone who cares knows that you’re not wearing last year’s clothing. One word sums up the whole scene: pathetic.

Imagine (or maybe you live my same Hell and don’t have to) three hundred and fifty almost identical styles walking the halls as if they were runways. I would rather burn my retinas with acid than have to experience the reoccurring display every time the bell rung. Even a majority of the unpopular fall prey to this ritualist compulsion. Outcasts who represent individuality from the norm, show up like they just walked out of some high price retail chain. (WTF!)

And then there’s Liv and I trying to figure out how in the hell we ended up at an amateur’s take of fashion week.

Only a few embrace it. They understand what it truly means to be a reject. Cast off from following the norm. Freedom from the mainstream ideologies the masses accept as truth. In high school it equates to individuality. Existing beyond paradigms of what the high school experience should be.

To be forsaken opens the unmasked world for an adventure unlike no other. You have the opportunity to walk a different path. Experience what others are too afraid to seek, to encounter for fear of what will be said of them. Image doesn’t even subsist in this realm, or the comments of those who don’t get it. They only wish they could be this free.

So come…come and take a walk with me into the land of rejects…

My brother has a rivalry that spans ten years. Imagine an eighteen year old holding on to something that happened when he was eight. Only…as his sister I could imagine that. We held grudges, but the two were not the same. For Walker one developed into the other. It turned into a fixation. His whole life became dedicated to.

Everyday my classmates – the academic inclined ones – battle to be number one. As sophomores the last thing we should worry about is where in the class we rank. They do. I see them in every Honors class trying to size up the competition. Perform at an optimal level to receive the highest percentage. There is no doubt their parents are behind the drive. The fanatical pull to be the best in high school academia.

Until recent I didn’t know I could possess such a feeling. Be competitive towards another. It has been my nature not to fall into the pitfalls so many other teenagers do. I don’t obsess over guys, grades, the latest fashion fad, who’s hooking up who? I tend to be very apathetic when it comes to the trivial. Now I’m stuck with an adversary that I don’t want. One who doesn’t know she’s competing or that I’ve already won.

The first time my name was sucked into the gossip abyss it had been said I was a witch. The “mourning” period had passed years before, yet I still clothed myself in black. Therefore, I had to be a devil worshiping witch. Not Glenda, the good witch, or the attractive portrayer in television shows and movies. Burned at the stake I would’ve been if I was in Salem during the hunt.

When pangs of adolescent curiosity towards the opposite sex hit middle school, the next rumor came. Holding hands with your best friend and giving kisses on the cheek meant you were a lesbian. It should’ve spoke to our kinship, and how we treated each other like reincarnated long lost sisters. To see Liv as anything else, especially sexual was a sight I could never behold.

Unfortunate for me, the rumor mill has spun another tale. This one is too farfetched to even fathom. Apparently, my brother’s best friend and I are in a secret relationship. I could choke on the absurdity. Laugh at the disturbed individual who conjured it up. Deride those endlessly who believed. Yet, all of this would be mute. It would still be out there.

I feel like screaming foul at the top of my lungs, but I don’t scream. I don’t defend myself against mindless speculation. Sink to their level by engaging in the possibility. History books proved minds didn’t sway after a denouncement. It only fueled the fire.

He stood for what I couldn’t stand. Bought into the ideal provided for him, like so many did. Participated in clubs like the Future Leaders of America, where their main objective was to become materialistic elitists. Had a soccer mom catering to him, while in essence controlling him. He was a good little boy, able to recite the fundamentals of the presubscribed cause. Lacking the confidence to speak his thoughts passed his brainwashed rhetoric.

Paired as his science partner, I was forced to tolerate his insipidness both inside and outside the classroom. Needless to say, the opportunity to expose him to the real world presented itself. The more time we spent together, the more damage I tried to reverse. The more impressionable I realized he was. All of his intelligence wasted, due to the inability of being a free-thinker.

Unconsciously, he became a pet project of mine. There was no diabolical plan to corrupt him. No illusions of the contrary created for his benefit. My only intent was to show him what was purposely removed from his education. What his parents shielded him from, deeming it unnecessary. His innocence stayed intact, though a little less pure.

Never did I anticipate a friendship would come of it. One where he would become indispensable and I would shelter him from my caustic and sometimes manipulative nature. Found pleasure in colorful debates where his book smarts and regurgitated philosophies couldn’t withstand my argument. Tried to show him by example, there was another way to live.

To enlighten those who don’t know, high school is a sub-society where individuals attempt to seek approval by transforming themselves into something they’re not. Talk like this. Dress how we do. Subscribe to the notion that due to ethnicity, you should act this way. Stick your head in a book so you can be one of us. Discover your athletic ability to run with the pack.

If you disregard all of the peer-pressure nonsense then you’re labeled (you know I hate labels) as an outcast–persona non grata. Despised by the majority, everyday turns into a battle zone. Clique specific hatred of insults and inappropriate comments show their ignorance and lack of acceptance for not becoming one of the masses. Although slight in nature, they each have a difference that stands out from the rest. Yet, somehow my disparity is too far of a stretch to fathom.

The untouchables–the popular–comfortably hurl derogatory remarks on all beneath them. Even the class clowns have created a united front, just one level above obscurity to find superiority. Inflicting their collective frustrations on those below, due to the assault they receive from those higher on the hierarchy; whereas those at the bottom only have one way to push, and that’s up.

The vicious cycle repeats itself usually until graduation or a life-changing event, such as hierarchical elevation (the rarity of that is a phenomenon). However, one has to accept the social standing and act accordingly to be caught in the hysteria. If one didn’t, humor and pity can be found in each malicious action against you for being you.