In the end (literally)

I woke up to the bleeping of my alarm clock...the most painful sound in the universe at this time. I could feel the sound piercing my ears and the light crawling to create a blotchy red behind my eyes, I just need to go the next two and a half years of school then leave this shit hole once and for all, save up and hop on a train to London, become a guitarist and go to a shit load of gigs and festivals. Hmmm...doubt it. I swear looking at all these idiots go around devoting their pathetic little lives to trying to become the next Ariana Grandé actually kills me. I'd rather be a loner than put all my faith into prissy little bitches who can't breathe under their giant egos and clumpy makeup.
OH MY FUCK THE TIME. I get up and look at myself in the mirror...nope...no miracle worker came and blessed me in my sleep. Fat. Ugly. And barely presentable for my cat that has placed itself on my uniform folded upon my desk. My hair sucks, it's that sickly brown colour that goes practically blonde in inconvenient places and is so thick that layers were the only resort. Even they look crap. I have no awesome emo-cut, which I'd love more than life, but my school decided that any thing considered an 'extreme style' was a sin against life. I'm not what you'd call skinny and I'd hope that I'm not considered too fat: I am small chested but then I have stupidly fat thighs and a scarred stomach. Also, I have spots. Being an outcast can be secretly sexy and attractive but that's only in the numerous fanfics I read (lmao I'm so sad). Nope, I'm just the creepy kid who sits in a solitary place with a guitar and a note book. I don't have long, beautiful hair. I don't have a nice face. I am not a good figure. I suck, at fourteen years old I'm an automatic failure.
I slid on my school jumper and felt a sharp pain on my fore arm. I wanted to cry out. What the fuck?! I pull up my sleeve and shoot myself a dark look in the mirror.
"You know what..." I say with gritted teeth "I'm done with your shit!" And a tear escapes my eye as I carry my cat out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.
Mum's left already...I decide to deal but with my pre-hell anxiety by taking myself out of the house to walk the fields out of the back of my house.
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"Taylor...bitch over here!" a familiar voice calls.
I turn around and Greg is stood there and- dafuq(?)- he's holding a toilet seat lid. Weirdo. I roll my eyes and punch his arm playfully.
"Hey Greggers!" I chuckle, he hates that name.
"Hello Tay-wait what's a bad name for Taylor? Gaylor?"
"Wow. And I thought you couldn't get more immature than this." I say, I think he knows what I mean.
"Oh shit...this is about my video from Saturday, huh?"
Yep, he guessed it.
"Yea, I get that you're a dick but could you, perhaps, be less of a dick?" I understand that this is a dumb statement...like asking a banana to be less yellow. Or brown. Whatever.
"Ive told you many times...I put a 'trigger warning' or whatever at the beginning. And plus...I bought a toilet lid to make up for it"
Greg holds out the toilet lid he found...God knows where...and he attempts to place it over my head. I push him back and he slips on the mud into a pile of cow shit. *Dying* if I actually took his annoyance seriously then he'd be pretty intimidating but no. Still funny.
"What the fuck?!" He screams...like a girl.
"Smile!" I wip out my phone and take a selfish with him struggling to gain balance whilst covered in shit behind me.
I'm such a good best friend...i think I'll give school a miss today.

Notes

Hey sorry it's so rubbish. This is my first one so please be nice, leave comments and enjoy. I'll write a lot tomorrow (I think).