Nonconformity or sumthin'

by Anon., MA



Giving my school a quick glance as I drove by, I decided that this year was THE year. Everything seemed different already and school hadn't even begun yet. For one, it was the first time I hadn't been eager to return after summer vacation. You know how all during school you talk about vacation? And during your entire vacation you manage to mention school one too many times than is appropriate. True, I had been counting the days until summer, but once it came, I didn't have any longing desire to see my "friends" and classmates again, or to meet my new teachers and take new classes.

I suppose when I was younger I'd always pictured myself as the type who would be popular and go out with the captain of the football team in high school. Or at least that's how I wanted it to be. But somewhere along the way I woke up and my attitude toward popularity and jocks took a turn for the better.

This year it wasn't so much that I wanted to be antisocial or dress like a grungy scrub, it's that I was sick of going to school and finding three other people dressed the same way I was. I was sick of socializing with squealing girls who only listened to top 40 music and believed that Luke Perry was God. I was sick of the school's general habit of getting smashed and stoned every weekend. Most of all and worst of all, the parents of the kids in my school seemed to love going away and leaving their kids alone whenever they could. Not only that, they pretend their kids weren't druggies and supported them by giving them money whenever they needed it.

I felt I had to escape it all somehow. Luckily my best friend happened to feel the exact same way. We jokingly made a list of school rules one night and the first rule was: "We don't have to be friends with anyone we don't want to be friends with!" So, she and I could be antisocial together, if that's possible.

At first I become sort of depressed when I realized I wasn't fitting in with the snobby, preppy, alcoholic, sex-crazed crowd. Now I look at them all and want to laugh. In twenty years or so, I'll drive my Mercedes (or whatever neat little sports car I can afford) into a gas station and be able to say "Fill 'er up, Loser," to the guy who used to make fun of me in Spanish class.

I watch them waste their lives and destroy their futures, and they ignore me as I disappear from the scene. One day someone will notice I'm not trying to be like them anymore, that I don't want to work at a gas station for the rest of my life, and they'll start calling me a hippie-wannabe and say that I'm conforming to non-conformity. What's that? You say that's exactly what I'm doing?

Just fill 'er up, OK, bud?