After rolling out of bed (twenty-five min be for I have to be in school) I jump into the shower. After my shower I do my hair. My whole head is shaved except for one strip of hair going down the middle of my head so I can gel up a six-inch mohawk. I put on a pair of pants that cover my shoes, which I've had for two years, and throw on my favorite System of A Down shirt. I have my nails painted black and I wear black eye liner. And be for I run out the door I put a spiked dog caller around my neck, and chains on my jeans. That's me, I don't do it for attention, it's my style. Why should anyone else care what I look like? But they do, to them I am a freak. They let me know this everyday. One of these days I'm not just going to keep walking and act as if I didn't hear them. One of these days I'll speak up.
             {Monday: 7:20A.M. Ludlow High School}
             Either I have really good hearing or everyone just says things load enough for me to hear them.
             "Hey Ashlee why is that kid Chris so weird? I mean doesn't he know that he looks ridiculous?" Asked Andrea.
             "I don't know, I don't think he cares. But I'm telling you if I looked like that I would definitely care." Replied Ashlee.
             Uhg I just don't understand why people even bother talking about me. If they don't like the way I look just don't bother with me. I obviously know what I look like.
             "FREAK! Hey why don't you put on some lipstick too considering you already have eye liner on!" Yelled Mark, the caption of the soccer team.
             "Yeah, what are you waiting for your master to come and take you for a walk? You know I'm not going to lie that's a nice dog caller, I think I have the same one for my dog!" Shouted Jeff, one of the 90% of preps in my school.
             "Yeah well at least my cloths aren't skin tight, and maybe if you didn't have a soccer ball ...