PaigeTheRage
My chest swelled with angry pride as a shouted back at him.
"No! I won't! I won't be that!" I gave him an angry, undermining smile as I spat at him.
"I will never be that for you! I'll only be who I want! You can't control me, you can't even control yourself! So- so- fuck that, and fuck you! I'm done with you!"
My breast still full of self-righteousness, I stormed out of that place for good.
Oh, what did it mean to be cool in middle school? Was it "pretty", "funny", "smart"? Or was it something deeper; "admired", "desired", "envied", even? Whatever it was, I wanted it. Badly. "Cool" was like nirvana, a perfect state of being in which all those adjectives previously used came together in perfect harmony. Everybody wanted to be this "cool", this strange, worshipped status. Little did I know that "cool" wasn't a prize you could chase after. No, becoming "cool" was something that others thought of you. I couldn't control it. What I should have sought after, was "self-accepted".
I love musicals. Such a wonderful combination of dancing and singing, it really is inspiring to me. To me, a musical is almost like a prayer. We combine the two things that we humans were gifted, and create something entertaining, thought provoking, or inspiring.