Freak. Loser. Thing

          The alarm goes off. My hand slaps everything on the table beside my bed beside the alarm clock- but doesnt touch it. I move my head, just enough to see through my dark purple hair. The time. 7:00, as always. I sit up. Its still dark- good. Dark is nice. I feel good for a moment. Then I go back to being my 15 year old self. My MISERABLE 15 year old self. I get dressed. Dark jeans, dark purple shirt, over the purple shirt, but not covering it, a short black jacket thing. Thing. God, help me... i think. Although, i am not too sure if he ever listens to me. If God is a he... what if he is female... i shrug, as if answering myself. I slowly walk down the stairs, and hear my too-cheerful dad singing Elvis in the kitchen. While making smiley-face pancakes in a failed attempt to make me happy for once. I grab my bag and yell a quick goodbye, even though i dont have to leave for another half hour. I dont make it to the door fst enoough, though, to escape my dads million goodbyes and, wont you have breakfast tomorrow thens. I run out the door, down the street and to the bus stop. I climb the giant rock that sits behind the bus stop and wait. Probably for a miracle.  A miracle, like, the bus, and everyone on it, to roll off a cliff. I laugh at the thought. Or for the bus to forget about me, the only one at my stop ever, and go straight to school. And then I see him. Another kid, looking about my age, walking to the bus stop. A boy. Just like my dream...