“Depressed.”
“Suicidal.”
“Attention whore.”
“Unstable.”

I’ve heard these words.
I’ve heard them said about me.
Some nasty rumors can be spread through a high school.
I want you to know this, though:
None of those word describe me.
At all.

People say I have bad influences.
People say My Chemical Romance is going to make me commit suicide.
People say Jhonen Vasquez will make me shoot my teachers and class mates.
People say I will go to hell because I don’t agree with everything in the Bible.
People don’t know me.

Rumors.
For once, Lindsay Lohan touched on a pretty good subject.

I start school at 7:50 every day.
I have too wake up a 6:15 to be ready.
I don’t always sleep very well.
People see me walk into school, head hung, shuffling my feet, eyes half closed.
They think I’m depressed.
I'm just tired.

I like to wear arm-warmers in school.
I just think they look cool.
People see me wear them.
People ask me if I cut myself.
They act concerned.
But all they want is another story to spread.

I adore hair-dye.
I despise my natural hair color.
Somewhere in my Freshman year, I died my hair black.
I liked it that way.
I kept dyeing black.
People thought I was trying to stand out.
I just thought my hair looked better that way.
Just before my Sophomore year, I cut my hair drastically short.
The rumors began anew.
And before my Junior year, I streaked my hair with all the colors of the rainbow.
The gossipers had a field day.
I just like hair-dye.
I don’t want a ton of attention.

I like to laugh.
I like to act crazy.
But I am not crazy.
That’s another thing people don’t get.
I climb trees.
I get hyper and run around the backyard.
I make animal noises.
People think I’m loosing my mind.
I’m just having fun.

People say I have bad influences.
They say I draw and write too much sad stuff.
Well, it’s better a fictional character suffers then me, isn't it?
I see the inspiration in the sad, angst-filled music I listen to.
I see it’s happy ending.
I see the satirical, if not slightly twisted, humor in my favorite literature.
I see someone who doesn’t care for humans in general.
But has enough morality not to kill them.
I was raised not to live life by any holy book or rules.
I was raised to make my own judgments, my own ethics, my own beliefs.
Even in my own house, each member of my family believes something different.
We get along just fine.

People say I’m going to wind up killing someone.
That may or may not happen.
Who knows what the future holds.
One problem:
They think that because I speak my mind.
I say.
“The human race is screwed up!”
I don’t hate humans.
Just a select group of people who have made us so screwed up.
Besides, most of my friends are humans.

People.
Don’t.
Know.
People.

It’s time to learn.

Maybe now, I can sleep.

-Rose
10:24 P.M
10/15/07