Rated PG-13 for Serious themes, like depression. It could possibly pass for PG but I want to be careful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairly OddParents, though my parents can be fairly odd.

Summary: The shocking thoughts of a stereotypical, blonde, cheerleader..

a/n: Okay. I'm trying to write a serious fic, normally I do humor. So sorry if this sux. And if it's too long.


Everyday I'm walking down the same, retarded hall.

The same, retarded hall that leads to the same retarded classroom I go to everyday.

The same retarded classroom with the same retarded teacher and the same retarded students.

That lived in the house that Jack built.

That's what my life feels like. Repetitive. Just like that stupid nursery rhyme.

Repetitive because it contains the same disappointments everyday.

The disappointment of being unloved, unliked, and uncared for.

Why? Cuz of those same, retarded students.

Why are they retarded? Because they're all the same.

Of course they may think I'm the one who is the same. The same, stereotypical, blonde, snobby cheerleader that's the antagonist in tween movies.

And that is why they're all the same. They all think alike. At least about me.

Snob. Ditz. Spaz. Insane. Dumb.

I've heard it all. Every label.

That's what they all say about me. That is, when they bother talking about me.

Most of the time they talk about her.

Pretty. Perfect. Popular.

Nothing bad.

But about me, it's that "dumb blonde" label.

Not that I haven't labeled all of them before.

Nerd. Loser. Pathetic.

I guess I deserve it.

I don't really mean all those labels. You can tell because I say them outloud.

I never say what I really think.

That's because I'm fake.

They're fake too.

Cuz they say all those labels behind my back. That's how I know they mean them.

Everyone's fake. Few, if any, are real.

Those that are real are still tarnished with a bit of fakeness.

Has one person ever been completely honest?

No. Everyone's fake. Especially me.

The hyper, snobby, crazy, ditzy, shallow, cheerleader is not me at all.

That's just my image. But everyone has a fake image.

At least, everyone I know.

I'm not talking solely about my friends. You know, "the in crowd". I'm taking about everyone. Including the "out crowd."

I know who everyone is, though they may not know me that well.

I don't blame them. My image drives them away.

My fake image.

I still know them. At least better than my friends do. At least I know their names.

My "friends". They're fake too. They as people are fake, and they as my friends are fake.

Not my fault. It used to be different. I used to be different.

I used to be that weird kid in preschool who ate paste. And too much sugar.

The other kids thought I was a freak. They wouldn't sit near me.

Except two.

The first was a boy who was teased for having buckteeth. He was the only one who would talk to me.

And I was the only one he talked to.

Not his fault. I was the only one who would talk to him.

I fell in love. If that's when you're 3.

I still am. If that's possible when you're my age. (see a/n at end)

Probably not.

Maybe love is fake.

Maybe it's not possible at any age.

Never felt it. At least not for a while. How should I know?

What about that boy? What happened to him?

He's still around. The friendship isn't.

Heh. Hasn't been for a long time.

One day two other new kids came. One was made fun of for having a large head, the other for having worse teeth than my beloved friend. Of course he immediately accepted them as our friends.

They just didn't immediately accept me to be their friend.

I was a paste eating freak after all.

The three boys clicked as friends right away.

Heh. Clicked. I guess that's where the word "clique" came from.

Trouble is, people don't always click with the others in their cliques.

Sure on the surface. But the surface is fake.

Maybe that first friendship I had was fake too.

Since the other two clicked so well with him he wanted to hang out with them.

They told him to ditch me. He did. They were a step up on the social ladder after all.

I wasn't even on the first step. In fact, I was miles from the ladder. Facing the other way.

That's how our friendship died. It only existed in the first place because I was willing to be his friend.

I was all he had. He had to be my friend.

I was his friend because I cared. I still care.

Why? I don't know. I don't think you can just stop caring about someone.

And maybe because he does care too. Well, did anyway.

I could see it in his eyes. I wasn't blinded by the social ladder.

I could tell he cared whenever he looked my way for a split second. He missed me.

Too bad he couldn't see how much he cared. He was blinded by the social ladder.

Don't blame him. Most people are.

Even me.

On the surface anyway. The surface is fake.

I'm not really blinded by the social ladder. I can see right through it.

So what about the second friend?

She came a few months later. She was pretty, sweet, instantly popular.

And yet, she still wasn't blinded by the social ladder. Not yet anyway.

She didn't understand the social ladder. She was too sweet and innocent. Perfect.

She was the girl who wanted to be everyone's friend. And everyone wanted to be her friend.

She even wanted to be my friend. So she was.

She accepted me and then so did everyone else.

Why? Because she was at the top of the social ladder, even though she didn't know what one was.

She couldn't see the social ladder because she wasn't blinded by it. She was on top after all.

People at the top are only blinded by the social ladder when they're looking down at it.

It makes them look down on the people below them.

But she was at the top of the social ladder and didn't look down on the people below her.

She looked at them, but as people, not lower levels.

I became her best friend. She brought me to the top of the social ladder. It had yet to blind me.

I didn't want to be near the social ladder. But once I got on top I was glad.

Why? Cuz I defeated it. At least, for a short while.

I didn't want to defeat it in the sense that I was the best.

I wanted to defeat it because it was evil. It is evil.

I wanted it to be destroyed so no one would ever have worry about what level they're on again.

I still want it to be destroyed.

Why? Cuz it took all I ever wanted. True friendship.

By third grade, the social ladder blinded her.

The blindness came in the form of two boys. Two boys who were instantly the coolest kids in school.

Two boys who knew everything about the social ladder.

They told her about the social ladder. They told her that if she wanted to be liked by everyone, she had to be on top.

To be on top you had to be rich, beautiful, and perfect. She already was.

But you have to fight to stay at the top. To fight you must put down the people on the lower levels. You must look down on them.

You must be blinded by the social ladder.

That fake social ladder.

She believed them.

Though it blinded her, it didn't take away her heart. Not yet anyway.

She wanted me to be at the top too. She cared about our friendship.

The two boys weren't too excited.

But they wanted her to be at the top because she was "Top Material". So they let her take me to the top.

As long as I stayed one level lower. And that's where I've been for awhile.

I'm surprised I'm still up that high. They don't even like me.

And when I say "they" that includes her.

Why? Because they made her dislike. They don't like me because they think I'm a psychotic freak.

They don't act like they dislike me or think I'm a freak, but I know they do.

Cuz they're fake.

Why do they let me stay up there?

Partly because they want me around cuz I make them laugh. They like to make fun of me behind my back. But I know they make fun of me. I'm like their court jester or something.

Partly because I'm "2nd to Top Material". Pretty, rich. Not perfect though. But shallow enough.

Shallow on that fake surface.

Mostly because I fight so hard. I fight hard by putting down those beneath me.

That leads back to the number one reason. They like it when I put others down. It's funny.

It's funny because I'm clever.

Clever? Yeah. I seem to be a ditz.


I'm not dumb at all. I know whats going on.

I even get good grades. Many don't know that because I don't slap my A's on my behind like some people do.

Of course, grades are just a surface thing too. But they can be truthful.

Fakeness is weak. Truth can seep through it.

Unless you fight against. To stay at the top.

You have to fight hard. I do.

Why do I fight for the top?

Because I cannot fall. The top is all I've got.

Otherwise I'll be fighting on the lower levels just like everyone else. The lower you are the harder it is to fight.

Or I could choose not to fight.

And be miles away from the ladder facing the other way, just like before.

Alone. Unloved.

Not that the ladder provides love. Just fake friendship.

Better than being alone.

I also to fight to defeat the ladder. To get rid of it.

I put down people to get them off the ladder. It is evil.

That is why I put down the one I love the most. My first friend.

He needs to be off the ladder. The higher he is, the harder he'll fall.

It may be a long, hard climb up the ladder, but it's an easy, short fall down it.

It's too late for me. I'm at the top.

Almost anyway.

I have too far to fall, I need to fight.

I need to put him down. He wants to be at the top.

At the top with her.

I don't want him to be at the top with her. It would be painful for me, and for him.

And the ladder will blind his pain from him.

The pain of fakeness.

I need to fight. I fight for my life.

The ladder is my life, it's all I've got.

That's why I hate my life, because I hate the ladder.

I fight both for my life and against it.

No one knows though. I don't let it surface.

The truth cannot seep through. Not yet.

Otherwise I won't be able to fight.

That's why I always wear long sleeves. To hide the scars.

My battle scars.

If people saw the scars, they would know the truth.

I hate the fakeness, but I need it to fight. Otherwise I won't be at the top.

It's easier to fight at the top of the ladder. But also easier, and farther, to fall. So you still have to fight hard. You need to be fake.

Covered with fakeness to fight the fakeness.

That's why I seem so hyper all the time. So people think I'm happy. So they won't know the truth.

The truth is, I hurt. But I need to hide the pain.

I'm also hyper because I intake so much caffeine. I need it for energy to stay awake.

I'm weary from fighting but I can't sleep. I'm too worried about the fight.

Which is why I seem like such a spaz. Caffeine and no sleep messes up a person.

But I need it.

I need caffeine for energy because I don't eat much.

I get sick to my stomach from worrying, it's hard to eat.

I also need to keep my weight down. That's the one thing I prevail in over my fake best friend.

Besides grades. But the social ladder doesn't care about that.

Not that she isn't skinny. I'm just skinnier. Way skinnier.

Because she eats. I don't.

But the caffeine doesn't seem to sustain me. Maybe I need to get a stronger substance.

I need it to fight, to be better.

I need to be better than her. I need to be the best.

I need to be at the top. I need to defeat the social ladder.

Besides, second best hurts. No one pays much attention to second best.

It's all about the person at the top.

As hard as the person at second best tries, they are not noticed.

No one notices how pretty or popular second best is.

They're always looking at the person on top. Because they're better.

Second best is almost as lonely as miles away from the social ladder.

In fact, the social ladder is a lonely place. It just blinds everyone.

It lies. Says they're not lonely. Says they can have everything. At the top.

But you can't have everything at the top. Truth and Love don't exist up there.

Without Truth and Love, you have nothing.

There's nothing at the top. Just a high fall.

Truth and Love only exist without a social ladder.

Even parents lose their love because of the social ladder.

"Why can't you be more like your friend? She's top material."

They'd love to have her as their daughter.

What I'd give to have true friendship and true love.

I could've had one or both. If it wasn't for that damn social ladder.

She was too good for the social ladder. I'm not so sure she is anymore.

He is too good for the social ladder. I can still see it in his eyes, even though they're blind.

His kind heart can seep through the fakeness.

I can tell he doesn't want the fake social ladder too. Even if he can't tell.

Or maybe he also realizes how evil the social ladder is and wants to defeat it.

He's just disguising himself like I am.

Or maybe it's false hope. Everything is fake anyway.

It needs to be destroyed, even if I'm destroyed with it.

Even if I'm destroyed with it, all that matters is it is destroyed.

Destruction won't defeat me as long as I defeat the social ladder.

Though I think the ladder is defeating me.

If I can't gain the last top rung, I'll gain a new battle scar as punishment.

Either the social ladder goes, or I do.

I can't live with it anymore. I can't let it blind me.

If it's not defeated I don't know what I can do.

I can't let it defeat me.

The only way to not let it defeat me is to defeat it.

If it defeats me, it blinds me.

It is better to die.

Get away from this cruel world. This cruel social ladder.

It causes too much pain and loneliness I can't bear it anymore.

As much as I can't bear it, I can't stop thinking about it.

All this thinking about the social ladder has made me lose all sense of time.

What time is it? Why are people leaving class already?

Is class really over? I don't even remember walking into the classroom. Did I spend all that time thinking about the social ladder?

It's consuming my thoughts. I'm getting closer to defeat.

I must try to stop thinking about it.

Let's see. What's next? Lunch.


Everyday I'm walking down the same, retarded hall.

The same, retarded hall that leads to the same retarded cafeteria.

The same retarded cafeteria with the same retarded students.

The one's at the top, middle, and bottom.

I see those fake friends of mine from the top.

They're sitting at the same retarded table.

They see me. I walk over.

I give a fake smile. I raise my eyebrow in a snobby fashion. To look cool and stuck up.

But it's all fake. I'm fake.

Way too fake.

Maybe the social ladder is getting to me.

I think it is. But it's not over yet.

The game is still going.

For now I will play its game.

I'll either win, lose, or die.

I won't lose. I'll win or die.

I don't feel like I'm winning.

I can feel cold metal against my skin just thinking about it.

I feel a slight wave of panic.

And then, for a split second, I meet his eyes.

I realize the fight is worth it.

He's worth it. Worth fighting for.

I don't feel like I'm worth fighting for, but he is.

And that is, and should, be enough to keep going.

Wow. That was interesting. Sorry if it sucked. It SUCKED!!!! Y'all realized that was Veronica thinking, right? Course I yelled it in the summary, lol. Anywayz, you can either take her thoughts as deep, depressed, or psychotic or maybe something else. Overdramatic? I dunno. I tend to think of them as the first three. Sorry if her thoughts were repetitive, but that's how thoughts work sometimes. BTW, I'm a Veronica fan so most of my fanfics will center around her. If you want to read them after this crappy fic anyway. LOL. They probably won't all be angsty.

Anyway, I did make up a lot of junk in this fic and that's okay, it's just a fanfic. It's just an idea on why Veronica acts the way she does. Sometimes fanfics don't flow perfectly with the show or what other ppl agree with about the show. That's because everyone has different perspectives. But, if you feel like flaming me, that's fine. I'll be proud cuz I've never received a flame b4. Mostly cuz I haven't posted many fanfics. Lol.