Ran into a friend from high school today and started to think back. Ah, those were the days. I remember in my Junior year, someone painted "Die, freek, die" on my locker and guess who got to clean it up. That's right, me. The principal said it was my fault for acting/dressing/being the way I am and instigating it. And so I wonder...why do people hate what they don't understand? I just don't get it.
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