215I used to think that popularity was a good thing. That is until I realised exactly what popularity was. Although some people see it as this "thing" that gets you invited to all the coolest parties and noticed by all the hottest guys, I see it as an infection. Yes, you read right an infection. The entire concept of popularity involves shrinking your brain into a pea sized ball of goo, if not smaller, suspended in the hollow caverns of your skull, and talk so that every second word you spit out is either "like", "totally" or "oh my god" I realise that's really a phrase, but bear with me making you sound like some illiterate fool with a vocabulary more limited than that of a parrot. Unfortunately, those who fall within the grasps of this infection are incurable, and thus it is virtually impossible to rid the world of them. Life is so unfair.
One might question where I came to this negative and rather cynical conclusion concerning popularity. But in truth, how can you miss it? The halls and classrooms of Knightsbridge High (KBH) are littered with these twittering bimbos and meat-headed jocks. How can you miss the obvious? Ok, I myself am not popular, but I'm not a hermit either, which is more than I can say for my friend Catherine Grey. I just detest attending social events that do not guarantee an intelligent conversation. This is in fact the vast majority of social gatherings. I realise how hermit like I seem but, let's face it, you haven't met Catherine yet.
Ah, Friday morning, the last day of the week. I closely examined my reflection. My tanned skin still retained blemishes on my cheeks. That stupid cream cost me fifty dollars and it still had no effect. I'm going to sue that stupid company! But then again I shouldn't believe everything I hear. I rolled my eyes. I'm so stupid sometimes! I ran a comb through my shoulder length black hair it seemed decent enough. Nothing special. Mascara? What am I thinking? I'm going to school! Sometimes I feel like I'm turning into one of them! I surveyed my dark brown eyes closely in my mirror; there were dark bags under them a clear result of my lack of sleep. Damn. Where's my cell phone?
"Sydney! Sydney?!" yelled a voice.
I whipped on a head band and began stuffing books into my bag. Why do I always lose my cell phone? Oh there.
"SYDNEY!" ouch! Stupid bed, my toe slammed against the corner.
"Yeah?" I replied in a pained voice.
"HURRY UP! I have a morning class!" boomed my brother. Is someone stressed this morning?
"Hang on! I'm packing my bag!"
"Ugh! You are so slow!"
"Ready!" I yelled brightly, he is so negative.
I really wish I could drive but, seeing as my procrastinating has prevented any study for the driving test, I have to be content with my loveable, moronic brother driving me with him, thus the occasional early start.
I ran down the spiralling staircases. Heaving my bag along behind me, Jason stood at the foot of the stairs his dark hair ruffled by his obvious frustration. As I passed him he grabbed my bag, seeing it as a nuisance as its weight slowed me down considerably.
"Finally! Heres your breakfast, now c'mon! Let's go" he said in a rather frustrated tone. Shoving what looked like toast into my hands. (I seriously felt like I had done a 400m sprint and it was only 7:40am! I wonder why I'm not in the track team, oh yeah! I can't run it in less than 2mins)
As he sped out of the driveway, I waved ad my father as he walked out the front door. I just saw him wave back, I wasn't ignored. I turned on the radio. "I love this song... Sorry I can't be perfect, and now its just too late and I can't go back ." I sang along enthusiastically.
"Syd, you seriously ruin the song" he muttered sniggering
"Shut up u stupid moron, I sound better than you! I have lessons remember?"
"Then you're wasting your money, nothing could make you sound decent" he scoffed.
Stupid moronic git! He always insults me! I'd of course slap him really hard across that extremely dense skull, but at the risk of causing a car accident. Tempting. no I shouldn't. I really wonder how his limited talents and abnormally low brain capacity earned him a place in all the top classes at school.
So our bickering continued until we got to school. Oh! How I love our morning routine! Yell, eat, drive, and fight, seriously, what more could you ask for?