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Description
On the bus home there's a boy. This child the sits in front of me is a special needs student at our school. The bus captains are narrow-minded and don’t allow the so called ‘freaks’ to sit next to each other, as they then have solidity in numbers. Neither do the allow them to sit near people that might give sympathy to them. I do not sit next to one of these special need students but one sits in front of me and one behind me. Both are sat next to the most narrow-minded obnoxious people on the bus. The one in front of me is always being beaten up, his face is covered in a colourful array of bruises and scratch marks. He never fights back, he still remembers the night his father lost it and tried to kill his mother and sisters. This fact is long forgotten by the boys surrounding him. They hit him whenever they see something yellow. Hard. It looks really painful for him. And yet I’m not compelled to stop it. I’m just like every other human being really. I want so much to be accepted by these beaters. These haters. These people who pray on the weak and worship the feeble minded. Why do I want their laughter?

These people are corrupted. Their pride in themselves stinks like an intoxicating heavy mixture. They are so evolved inside themselves they don't notice their fault, inadequacies. I want to be like that. I want to be able to say I take a little pride in myself. But then I look in the mirror and always resort to the comforting black eye-make-up and my hair with drawn from my face. I feel ugly. But what more can I do.

I'm not suggesting these loathsome creatures are beautiful. They are ugly,. Both ways. Their insides and hearts are rotten to the core, black, burnt out like the cars in the garages me pass everyday. Not painted pretty colours, not leather interior. But still enough pride to stand up.

Don't Fall-pride

Description
On the bus home there's a boy. This child the sits in front of me is a special needs student at our school. The bus captains are narrow-minded and don’t allow the so called ‘freaks’ to sit next to each other, as they then have solidity in numbers. Neither do the allow them to sit near people that might give sympathy to them. I do not sit next to one of these special need students but one sits in front of me and one behind me. Both are sat next to the most narrow-minded obnoxious people on the bus. The one in front of me is always being beaten up, his face is covered in a colourful array of bruises and scratch marks. He never fights back, he still remembers the night his father lost it and tried to kill his mother and sisters. This fact is long forgotten by the boys surrounding him. They hit him whenever they see something yellow. Hard. It looks really painful for him. And yet I’m not compelled to stop it. I’m just like every other human being really. I want so much to be accepted by these beaters. These haters. These people who pray on the weak and worship the feeble minded. Why do I want their laughter?

These people are corrupted. Their pride in themselves stinks like an intoxicating heavy mixture. They are so evolved inside themselves they don't notice their fault, inadequacies. I want to be like that. I want to be able to say I take a little pride in myself. But then I look in the mirror and always resort to the comforting black eye-make-up and my hair with drawn from my face. I feel ugly. But what more can I do.

I'm not suggesting these loathsome creatures are beautiful. They are ugly,. Both ways. Their insides and hearts are rotten to the core, black, burnt out like the cars in the garages me pass everyday. Not painted pretty colours, not leather interior. But still enough pride to stand up.

Don't Fall-pride