Passionless

Sometimes I seriously think I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time.


I mean, what happened to passion? What happened to people that would die for love, for life, and for death? What happened to people who are truly passionate about a cause they would die for? People don't care about anything these days, or so it seems. Seriously, they have to like something, right?


Now we don't seem to be passionate about anything. Friendships, love, studies, sport - none of it seems to be done with much enthusiasm. It's suddenly not cool to really really like something anymore. If you try hard at something, you're a creep. That's what it seems like. To spend more than three seconds on an essay is like social suicide here. There are only two options at school: you either have to hate the subject, or pretend you hate it.

Which is ironic, because apparently my school is elite. Bah.

Well, I'm different. I'm a passionate person. I believe there are some things worth living for, some things worth working for, some things worth dying for, and some things worth crying for. I'm not going to pretend that I don't give a toss about anything just to fit in.

I hate it when all these skinny, anorexic, make-up plastered girls look at me as though I'm an alien from outer space. Who cares if I only know about three different hairstyles? Who cares if I seriously can't be bothered putting makeup on anymore? Who cares if I actually want to pass school and get into college? They shouldn't, and I don't care if they do. But why do they keep staring, and gossiping, and whispering behind my back? It's not as though I don't notice. If they hate my guts they could at least keep it to themselves - I hate all of them, but I don't go right up to their face and say 'I hate you. You're a fugly anorexic bitch and you look like a wax model from Madame Taussauds'. Because that's what I feel like saying.