All Diary Entries, Skittles for Breakfast
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Skittles for Breakfast: An Introduction

robI long for the day when someone feels the need to kill me because my existence is a constant reminder of the change this world deserves, the change that is at the root of their every fear. At the moment however, people just want to kill me because I’m an asshole. And perhaps I’m not an asshole in the sense that I’m reeking havoc on the world for no apparent reason. I am merely the victim of the Jayden Tucker.

The problem is that everybody at Fairfield High is practically in love with him. Scratch that, obsessed with him. I remember writing in his yearbook junior year and I noticed a whole essay written in there by some random ass guy who wrote, “I want to be the godfather of your children.” I’m not even sure if he went to Fairfield. The point is, it’s difficult to play victim to someone who is beloved by so many for being, “sweet, funny and intelligent,” when I am beloved for being “blunt, sarcastically funny, and crazy.” It’s like Simon Cowell playing victim to Michelle Obama. NO ONE BELIEVES YOU. SHE’S A BEAUTIFUL NATIONAL TREASURE. YOU’RE A DICK.

The truth is, that rhetoric isn’t necessarily correct. I mean, I’m super nice, I even took a girl to Prom because no one liked her, but compared to Jayden, no matter how much more popular I was, it was like waging war. He had the indie fans, I had the mainstream fans, and we both know what kind of fans are more loyal. Unless you’re Lady Gaga.
Writing this in retrospect is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, reason being: the feelings and emotions aren’t as fresh as they were at the time these events occurred. However, this created a sense of humor in retelling what exactly went down. You see, if I had chronicled all of this as it was happening, you would have wanted to kill yourself two pages in, inspired by my depressed words alone. I know for a fact that the first chapter would have been a dark poem with metaphors of death and blackness. But isn’t that what makes us who we are? Finding the comedy in a tragic past. If it weren’t for humor, there would just be dwelling, and with just dwelling, we would never move on. I wanted to move on. I’m actually not sure if I have yet. But you can bet your bottom-dollar that I will never shed a single tear for Jayden Tucker ever again.

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