Dear journal,

(This is not a fucking diary, it's a journal. Diaries are for the weak!)

Today was one of the worst fucking days of my life. One of.

It was my first day at my new high school, I'm the new guy, again. But I really gotta get my shit together, I don't wanna get kicked out of this school too, I don't wanna do that to my mom. She's already got a lot on her mind.

My day started off with me getting up at 6 am. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, ate my Kellogg's, it was just a normal boring day, aside from the fact that it was my first day at Lakeside High.

My mom, Clancy Cromwell, was driving me to school, we pulled into the parking lot when she turned towards me.

"U-um, ok Marcus, it's your first day at school, just try your best to behave and, m-make some friends of course and just.. Ok, let's be real, Mark, this is the Fifth school you've been kicked out of, please, please just follow the rules. I want this to be the last high school we have to put you in. You know with- with the divorce we're low on cash and-"

"-I get it mom, you don't have to explain. I'll do my best ok?"

"Good boy, what would I ever do with out you. Skedaddle now, or you'll be late for class."

I grabbed my bag and left the car.

"By mom!"

"G-g-good by-bye son!"

Ever since dad left her voice has been all shaky like she was on the verge of having a panic attack or something.

Today I wore black denim jeans, purple and black converse, one of those jeans jackets with sweater arms, and a black t-shirt. My hood was up covering my face.

I got my schedule and looked for my class.

English- room 226

I went up the stairs because I'm assuming that's where the my class is. So I'm there walkin' down the halls, looking for room 226,

I'm looking at the doors.

222, 223, 224, 225, and finally! Door number, 227!?!?!? Where the fuck is room 226?!?!

So I'm looking all through the hallways for room 226, I guess someone was smoking crack when they were building this place,

because room 226 was DOWNSTAIRS!

And now I'm what? 25 minutes late for class!

So I walking into class about 25 minutes late, the whole class goes silent.

"And who may I ask are you sir?" The old man said in a sharp tone of voice, now I'm telling you, if looks could kill, I'd have a bullet in the side of my head.

"U-um, I'm Mark Cromwell sir-"

"So you're NOT the queen of England? Pope Francis? So what makes you think you're so special that you can walking into my class whenever you please, and disrupt my teachings?"

I just stared at him shocked. It's my first day, and I only missed 20 minutes.

"Well?"

"Uuhh-I'm new here. I just got kinda lost on my way t'class and-"

"Your grammar is atrocious. Not to mention you are violating several of the dress codes."

"H-huh?"

"Flashy clothing, that demonic creature on the back of your sweater." The skull on the back of my jean jacket. "Your hood up and over your head inside of the building!" I pulled off my hood. "Those hideous piercings-"

"Ok now you're just being rude."

"Talking back to a teacher?! Mr. Cromwell."

Some chuckles were heard throughout the class.

"You dare think you can talk back to me? An elder? A superior?"

"I-"

"There you go again!" He yelled "go take your seat next to Lyle, my star student."

Some of the other students rolled their eyes and groaned when he referred to that Lyle kid as his favourite student.

"I don't know who that is." I said plainly and honestly.

"Over there" he pointed "in the blue cardigan, appropriate clothing."

"There's nothing wrong with what I choose to wear. This outfit reflects who I am on the inside."

"If that is so then you are an improper delinquent with poor taste in clothing, hush your loud mouth and take your seat!"

Wow, he's an old rude man, not too different from my other teachers. I already hate this school.

I sat down next to Lyle. He looked at me as I sat. He had big green eyes and light brown hair that was brushed and slicked back in a perfect hairstyle. His dark blue cardigan, his dress pants. He was indeed, a goodie two shoes.

Mr. Grumpy old fart went back to teaching class.

His name was written in large cursive letters on the board. Mr. Flanagan, but I'm gonna call him Mr. G.o.f for grumpy old fart.

I looked up at the board, trying to focus on the lesson.

"Alright class, we are taking notes now, please pull out a lined sheet of paper and a black or blue pen."

So I pulled out my notebook and pencil case.
Me being myself, I for got my pens, so I grabbed my pencil.

"I believe I said, blue or black pens. Mr. Cromwell, late, not well dressed, and unprepared. A bad start on your first day, yes?" He raised an eyebrow, he went back to teaching his class. I hate this old man, I wished he'd have a heart failure and die.

Just then I felt something poke my back.

"Hey there." Said a girl with bright pink hair, thick eye liner, and a boring sweater that didn't match her style. "I hate him too." She said like she was reading my mind. "Here's a pen."

"Thanks" I whispered back.

"No probs, keep it, I have tons, get them all from the dollar store cuz I'm a cheap ass."

I nodded in response.

"Name's Becka, short for Rebecca, never call me Rebecca though, or I'll murder you."

"Names Mark, short for Marcus, I probably won't murder you if you call me Marcus."

"Haha, yeah."

"Oh! I'm sorry? Is this your class? Would you like to teach? NO TALKING IN MY CLASS Mr. Cromwell! The same goes for you Ms. Rebecca Stacey."

"Becka."

His eyes almost popped out of his skull.

"I'm sorry? Did you just correct me? You think you have the audacity to correct a highly educated and well rounded individual such as myself?!" We just stared at him blankly. "Shall I call both of your parents?"

"....no sir" we both said.

"That's what I thought!"

Soon class was over, it was boring as hell, turns out me and Becka had all the same classes.

"That man's insane." I said.

"Damn straight!"

Next class was math, then art, then history.

All boring classes....except I kinda like art..but yeah, all boring.

That Lyle kid was in my art class too, he sat next to me.

He was so obedient and polite, I hated it, all of the teachers treated him like he was a saint and treated me like a reject who just came outta prison. Like no matter what I did I would always be a horrible person. Maybe they all knew about he schools I've been kicked out of, like they were warned before I got here.

But Lyle really did seem perfect. He has perfect posture, perfect handwriting, perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect body, and OH MY GOD I just met him and I'm already falling for the guy!

But hell would break loose if people ever found out I was gay.

I say it bluntly 'cause this is my journal, and no one else is gonna read it, I hope.

But he's probably straight I mean...no..I don't know, I mean look at him, all small and cute.. He's probably gay..or bi..no..gay. But you can't assume someone's sexuality by just looking at them.

But I should get over him, before simple admiration turns into a full on crush, I mean, I had a crush on this guy once and it didn't go well... At all.

Anyways, moms calling me for dinner so I gotta go. Bye.