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My Normal Thoughts

It’s a pretty messed up thing, having to constantly put up a front and pretend to be someone you’re not. You want to stay strong; you want to be believed that you know who you are, despite all of the undesirable variables. Sometimes I feel like I just can’t do it, like I’m trapped beyond escaping. Trapped in this bullshit hick town with his parents who couldn’t even understand me if they wanted to, trapped in a sexuality that is considered a sin.
I kind of envy Suzie, in a way. She is so damn carefree. She fits in; she fits in here…in this bullshit cookie-cutter life. She’s got the looks and the bubbly personality; it’s too easy for her. She parties to genuinely have fun, she snorts just for the hell of it. But me, I’m so beyond that point. My drugs have surpassed that purpose. They’re the only thing that keep me from losing it, keep me from snapping and pulling a Columbine.
I’m sure that if I wrote this all down and someone found it, they would call me crazy and lock me up. It’s the irony of it all. I am the crazy one, I’m the psycho because I don’t cut my hair short, and I wear tattered clothes. I’m the loony guy because I listen to death metal, sell drugs, and don’t believe in God. But these people, these “normal” people…these people are really, honestly considered normal. That’s the shit that makes me lose faith in this system, this society, this country, and even in this whole damn world. It’s normal to pray to some imaginary guy and expect him to fix your problems. It’s normal to call black people “niggers” and homosexuals “fags.” Jesus Christ, it’s “normal” to live your entire life thinking that there is some magical and exclusive place called Heaven that makes all of this pain and suffering worth while. If you ask me, this is all a bunch of bullshit, and I am much more normal than anyone in this goddamn town.
“Ian? Ian where are you? Oh, hi Ian. Can I come in?”
That’s pretty strange. That was probably the first time anyone in...