Victoria Crowell (toric13) wrote in kevinshapiro,
Victoria Crowell

It Was Pointless

Kevin sat on the curb, his sneakers bathing in the nasty runoff cruising into the sewer. His head rocked to his headphones, which rocked to a band. He tried to look outcast in Hot Topic duds and black eyeliner. He felt as fake as he looked. It wasn't fair. Kevin's parents died in a stereotypical car accident when he was young, too young to remember them, miss them, or even care about them. He was an orphan for Christ's sakes; why couldn’t he be miserable? Yet his youth also placed him in a good home, with smiling parents and a proud older sibling (who wasn’t proud long). He was spoiled, given all the oversized jeans, black mesh, and Chuck Taylors he wanted with a hug and a cute tug on the safety pin. It was pointless.

Kevin lay back onto the sidewalk with a distinct sigh. He was no Oliver Twist, begging for "More, please". He couldn't set himself apart through amazing feats of scholastics or athletics. He couldn't dazzle people with his looks or witty retorts. He could try to be miserable; the miserable angst made famous of late by request lines and rock videos, and even that was tainted by his inability to escape love and luxury, what people rebel for, not against. It was pointless.
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