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What's the point really? Life has been made into a conveyor belt; choice goods are desired. Decent goods less so, but can get by. Rejects are at the end of the road, thrown into the forgettable abyss. In the end, all goods expire; then what becomes of them? Nonexistence? The triple R---Reduce, reuse, recycle? Resurrection, reincarnation, or rest? They know after their life's been consumed, time will overshadow them. That's why many try to make their legacy. Everyone at death's instant, in their moment, reminiscing about what they've done, mostly good, then at least one regret-- every single person has a regret. But at birth and death, everyone started the same, but walked differently. One wallows, one at the accomplished shallows, and one at successful and accomplished heights. And of course who wouldn't choose the one at the highest peaks? It's been made like a machine in this life. So, what's the point?
Yet, in vain and vanity, I transformed myself, from the reject to seemingly choice goods."This is you in the picture, isn't it?" a dyed blonde boy, trying so hard to maintain his bravado bully fantasy raised his scratched up, but last year's iPhone, disrespectfully to my face. Through the careless scratches is a photo of an male middle schooler, with unkempt hair, with the faintest of smiles, and the most shy posture. Even the eyes fail to show its allure, inherent in most pupils. But what's wrong with that? That boy is a kid. Let him play around or not. Why am I so defensive? Because I know that boy, but..."High school transformation, high school debut, high school transformation, high school debut. high school transformation, high school debut! High school transformation, high school transformation, high school transformation, high school transformation, high school transformation, high school debut, high school debut, high school debut, high school debut, high school debut!!!" is what swirled in my growing insanity-- then, something hit me.Why want the imaginary ideal? The near impossible, conditional fantasy? Why live in an illusionary delusion? If I can't continue acting like a person who is loved by all females, popular to both sexes, worshipped by the world, served by the universe forever, then--!"Yes... that is me"The stupid, ridiculous-looking blondie with his swept back hair, and his collar unbuttoned down to his sorrowfully soft chest, and his arms woefully thin despite his folded up sleeves, and his legs, which skipped all leg days, stood apart, foreshadowing his future security guard position, all in contempt of the uniform rules, smirked at me with his idiotic smug face, and the only part of his body hardened in front of his fellow gender, enough to take a punch! He chuckled with his pathetic attempt at a growl to impress his female cohorts, who are fools enough to adore him, or perhaps are only playing along.... I'll play the bad guy."So, what?"He choked his chuckle, his eyes boring wide, surprised at my new armor, keen to test which of our bravado would prove victorious. Nothing fazes a prideful person; they will wickedly smile at any situation, to supress the hint of fear of being overcome. Then, he continues his chuckle. "Don't act tough; it doesn't suit you!"I took that to heart. It didn't show, but I already felt defeated. How could I surpass this egotistical knucklehead, who has no knuckles? Perhaps, playing the bad guy is a delusion on its own.In desperation, there is no rationality. "Neither to you.""How about I pun--"I suddenly pulled down his pants. No, I'm not gay."You son of a--!!" He lunged forward, his fist trained to my head, but I stepped aside, and he tripped in his own pants---a knucklehead, without the knuckles.Then, I also pulled down my pants, and stomped a foot down his neck. "Let's compare dick sizes then!" I swear I'm not gay.Confused by his wonderful dilemma of saving his life or his dignity, he grabbed my ankle with one hand and tried to pull up his lowly pants with another, as he choked out curses."STOP! What the hell are you doing!?" Ah, the Monitor. One of the most annoying people I've ever known. She reprimanded anyone and anything, from quarks to the multiverse! "Stop that at once!! What you're doing is illegal!!"You're not a lawyer, only a wannabe. "He started it." I obeyed, so I wouldn't get irritated any further."I'm reporting you to the principal. I don't know what else will happen to you but expulsion.""I said he started it.""Talk to the hand. I saw the whole thing!""Then you must know--""Shut up!" she shrieked.I shut up, not because of her words, but because of the noise she emitted.She continued, "Fix yourself and go to the faculty room at once!*I stood stubbornly."I said, fix yourself before I make you do so!!"I stood menacingly."Don't try to rebe-- hey, don't come closer!"At this point, it was over, was it not? This is the point of literal no return, for the degenerate who wrote this, who might be gay, because I'm not gay, and for me, who, at his attempt at a debut, a turnaround in his social life, now loses every foreseeable life. Suicide is now on the cards. So, I'll start being bipolar!I pounced towards her and grabbed both of her wrists. "How about you make me do you?""H-Huh!? Let go of me, you creep!!"I didn't budge while she tried to escape."It's the end of the line for y--GWAGH!" I've played, let's see, a cumulative five minutes in total of horror games. I installed them, played them for a few seconds, then said "Nah," and uninstalled. Even so, I never get 'surprised' by anything. Every game has a pattern, so do horror games. But, somehow, even the most predictable and expectant events, shock you with their results."Take that!" she said as she, rightfully so, striked my precious, unprotected balls with her knee. Yaouch.But I'm not gay though, even with what happened. Nothing cracked. I watched horror gameplays instead.I collapsed on the ground with unbearable, and more so, unprecedented pain, which would probably be akin to birthing. Something may have been born on this day from me. I groan in pain as I roll like a ball, protecting what has already been attacked. Trying to repair the irreparable. Caring and tending it without daring to even touch it."I-I'm sorry!" she quickly gave me some, very useless, pats on the back, as if I were a child that was bawling their eyes out.I was bawling my eyes out. "I don't know what came over you, but I had to protect myself, pranks or not."Honestly, you could be a judge instead, because justice is served, scrambled."Urgh... sorry... I... I just wanted some closure." The hell am I saying!? Honestly..."C-Closure? What?"Meanwhile, the blondie leaned on a nearby wall most utterly confused and shamed. "You'll pay for this!" He ran away... for some reason. Maybe because he wanted his egg not scrambled... maybe sunny side up? Fried? Or simply untouched?"Let me help you up... three, two, one..."
I did fantasize Kasegawa... well, not in that way... But, I'm not gay, so, yes, definitely in that way, but...That's not what I'm trying to say here.I imagined how cute it would be if the annoying, straight-laced Monitor showed her maternal instincts and cared for me, secretly on the clinic bed. That was a long time ago, and by a long time ago, I mean a week ago.And right now, well, let a boy humor himself a bit: it kind of came true!