People don't usually talk to me. I am the kid who sits in the back of the classroom all by myself, the kid who just coasts along, hands in all of my assignments when there due and never gets in trouble for socializing during a test. I suppose that would be different if I had someone to actually socialize with in the first place. The only time that I get any attention or recognition at all is in art, sometimes even in English. There is nothing worse than being stuck in this hell-hole all day, every day. I yearn for the weekends when I can spend my Saturday mornings accompanied by my sketch book and pencil, or my Sundays sitting in the back of the library hiding behind the yellow tinged pages of a good classic. God, I don't even understand why I'm stuck here in the first place, so I tried out a new idea for a character in my comic on my desk in my best black sharpie, I didn't have my sketch book with me, what else was I to do? Any kind of artist would know that when I say an idea finally springs into your mind, you have to jump on it before its gone, because a best-selling idea does not come very often. Who the hell really cares if I drew on one measly old desk anyway? In my eyes the graffiti was an improvement. Its not my fault that our barbaric teacher couldn't identify fine art or a best-selling comic strip if it hit him over the head. I now have to spend my Friday night bickering with the 'brat-pack'. Isn't this just peachy...