Disclaimer- Not not not mine.

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Sometimes… this whole charade gets really fucking old.

Another day, another night, another indistinguishable moment that will muddle with other insipid moments spent pretending. A lunch tray, piled high with what translates to countless vitamin benefits, fiber, and iron, sits brazenly on the table, another reminder. Nothing on that tray is ever going to get touched, eaten, enjoyed, hated, whatever. The goddamned apple is kind of lying there, almost smug, and reflecting the fluorescent light from above. Is it fucking winking at me?!?

Don't mess with me, Apple.

I know I'm not off my rocker or jumping that fine line between depression and full out crazy, but the apple is just another reminder from a crueler Fate. It's natural. It's part if that cycle, yeah, that whole life/reproduction/death thing. That circle of life. Well, I'm afraid I may have just made the circle of life into a line. A never-ending line, a tangent that originates from the same one point but then avoids following the natural sway of the curve and veers off into space and infinity and the unknown. . Seriously, what sick sidetrack did I take?

All around, real life thrives, laughing, eating, and generally enjoying their unsuspecting juvenile existences. Humanity reeks in the air, and every one of their obvious flaws is another gut-wrenching reminder that we have nothing in common,

Why do I even pretend? Get on this merry-go-round they call adolescence and hang on for the ride? I hardly think we're fooling ourselves, or the humans for that matter. Everything about us screams at them, "WRONG! IMPOSSIBLE! UNNATURAL!" and they know it. It's why when we walk through the halls, they part to let us through. It is why our lunch table is avoided by taking the long way around the cafeteria. Some self-preservation, buried deep, keeps them at a distance. Our beauty is unnatural, this they know. They are attracted, as moths are to the proverbial flame, but, somewhere deep down; they know this flame does more than burn. It keeps them away.

And we buy food they know we don't eat. We got to classes they know we are too intelligent for. We stay silent even when they know we talk. We lurk at the edges of their consciousness', always separate, always distinct, always…not one of them. Who are we fooling?

Certainly not them, and certainly not ourselves.

The apple is still there. It's really stupid this resentment, this teenage angst all being thrown against the unsuspecting product of Nature's goddamned goodness. Maybe it's just that I've been a teenager for too long, and I'm way too comfortable with hormonal mood swings.

Or maybe I'm actually crazy.

Either way, I'm not sure it matters. Neither of those statements actually matters in the long run. 2,000 years from now, nothing will have changed. Maybe I'll have become more adept at imitating them, but apart from that, they will be resounding in my head for the rest of eternity, unintentionally mocking me with the inane normality they concern themselves with everyday.

I flip through the minds of the humans within reach, reading their minds absentmindedly, as one might scan a book. After all, an actor is constantly studying those whom he wishes to emulate, is he not?

I can't wait for school to be ov-

Maybe tomorrow, I can ask her-

Damndamndamndamndamn…maybe he didn't notice….

Aπ√B! C x… take the root, put in the negative radical…

Where is my cell phone? Did I leave it on the bus- again?

Their worries, their insecurities, hopes, it all sort of blends together in the worst kind of migraine, the one that should be relished for the distracting chaos that it creates. Come on, do your worst! Distract me with your insignificance!

Prom! Is one dress enough? Does the garter match? Or-

Should I get a second cookie? Maybe I can sneak-

Is he ignoring me because she's here? Why-

She is hot, and man is she nice. I think she's into me…

-

I like her. She's quiet.

Urg. Fuck that new girl shit-

Wait. Nothing? How is that even possible? Who…which one is it? Not Mike, Jessica she's still gossiping about the new girl…oh. The New Girl.

Bingo.

Wait. That is – weird. It's not working. Really bizarre-It's like- well, is she?

It's like her mind…it's not there. It's just a resounding

-

-

-

every time. Alice will know why, Alice-

-but wait- is the New Girl looking over here? At me? Her hair, it looks very soft, very-I hope she flips it. Hah! I sound like one of them. A man of your age- you should really know better… but, come on New Girl! (A quick look through the cruel and insubstantial mind of Jessica Stanley tells me her name is Bella). Please flip it- yes!

Oh my god.

Oh my god. She smells so divin- Oh my sweet Jesus. Don't attack!! Don't even think about giving into it- but that smell, it's like honey or something more att- don't move! You can control the urge if you stay still- but- so luscious, so tempting- don't attack her, you ass! Control- take a bite of the apple. It'll distract-

Aw. That is absolutely disgusting.

It's better. You can at least handle it.

I owe the fucking apple now, big time. And that's pretty goddamned ironic. Eating one forbidden fruit in lieu of another.

I am not the strangest in the room anymore. She is stranger. And that scent- while absolutely maddening- is a reminder. She is different, odder than us.

Bombardments from every direction resound in the cafeteria.

She is so good looking!

If I sit next to her in English…

I should get to her before he does…

She isn't as pretty as I am. No. She's not.

I can show her around town. That's plausible, isn't it? So hot…

They have noticed her too. The humans, and I, we have finally been bound into a brotherhood, a servitude. For her.

They will comment from afar, because she is incomparable.

They will inch closer to her, pulled by a force they can't quite name, because she isn't the same.

They will part in the hallways for her, because she is different.

And so will I.

THIS IS A ONE-SHOT. NO MORE NEW MATERIAL WILL BE POSTED.