IÕm sick of trying to be something else.
I guess thatÕs where it all really started. It wasnÕt the new school (letÕs face it; high school is just a new food-chain, not a new ecosystem), or those plastic Barbie-bots IÑfor some reasonÑcalled friends, it wasnÕt the evil rock music, it wasnÕt evenÉ him. I mean, all of that was probably part of my eventual metamorphoses into the Ònot-so-nice nice girl.Ó But I think the root was deeper than that.
The truth is, just because everybody wants you to be something, it doesnÕt mean you are. And I guess thatÕs just what I just got sick of trying to swallow. As for the rest of itÑonly having guy-friends, dissolving the ÒnormalityÓ of the small-town statistic, and, of course, being the right-hand gal of the suspected criminal/Satanist/gay/psychopathic whack-job É well, those were just side-effects.