I walked down the hallway of my school. Some of my classmates stared at me, others pointed and laughed. In my head they bowed down to me. I wore the crown. The “in” crowd was out because there were more of me than them. We ruled the school in my head. No longer seen as the outcasts.
In reality, everyone saw us as garbage. We were the weird ones, especially me. My choice in clothing was far from favorable by most teenagers my age. My teachers looked at me like I was the scum of the earth. I guess poverty will never be cool, at least not mine. My friends were nothing like me, but that’s what made us outcasts. We were the leftovers in the school. The unlikely group of teens. The loners that somehow became a wolf pack. We were a group of nobodies.
The rodents of my school, also known as the popular group, scurried past me, careful not to touch me. They didn’t want to be tainted by my weirdness. In my head, though, they begged to touch me. They wanted to kiss the ring. They wanted to throw themselves over mud puddles to make sure my walk was clear. Oh, those rats. I was their prized cheese and they needed me. No one dared to touch my crown or betray me. They knew what I’ve known all my life: I am the King of Misfits.
This was very short in comparison to yesterday’s, but that’s only because I really want to continue to watch Breaking Bad. I pulled this one out of nowhere, but I love it. Hope you enjoyed!