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September 10th

Dear Journal,

It's official. The entire world is filled with nothing but morons.

I'm dead serious, that's the sad part. I just got back from yet another day in my junior year of high school, (Fun right? Wrong...), and the teacher asks us who discovered North America.

Now, any five-year old can answer this question, it's Christopher Columbus, (It's actually a Viking named Grog from the Cave Bear Clan, but they had to make it simple for these morons), but all I'm hearing are replies like, "Nikki Manaj," "Master Chief," and "Johnny Depp."

This was one of those days where I just want to slap the entire human race in the face...Just...Seriously? Doesn't anyone read anymore? Or even pay attention to anything that's not from their generation? Clearly not, or I would have an intelligent conversation with someone more often than just the times I'm forced to talk with myself out of pure lack of mental consciousness from my, so-called, 'peers.'

One day, every one of them will work for me, I just know it...

I suppose I should introduce myself, just in case there's any random stalkers deciding to read my journal. My name's Mitchell Carson, named because I assume Mitchell Musso was on TV the day I was...'conceived' let's say.

I'm just going to stop before I get sick. Anyway, now you know my name, back off, put down the journal, and stop stalking me.

There are only five boys in the school that have the mental capacity to form a sentence with ten words or more. Sadly enough, I hate all of them.

Not that I would ever admit to having any intellectual equals at this God-forsaken school, (or town, for that matter), but these kids have to be close.

First, we have Neil Praetor, the boy with the voice of Darren Criss and looks of Harry Styles. As soon as I saw him, I knew he'd be one of the popular kids, since he just SCREAMED boy band. Every girl falls to pieces around him, I swear, but he doesn't even notice half of the time, he's always around the other four boys.

Then we have Oliver Miller, and he is flat-out gay. I don't have anything against him being this way, but I'm sure if you looked it up in a dictionary, you'd find his picture next to it. With him, it's all hairspray, skinny jeans, and Katy Perry, and it annoys me to no end. I think him and Neil are dating. I don't know for sure, but if the hickeys I always find on Oliver's neck are any sign, I've got a pretty good feeling. On the other hand, he could also be dating that Darren Smythe character. Maybe he's a two-timer? Only time will tell.

Robin Harris; He seems to be the most innocent thing you'd ever live to see, but I think he's got something secret beneath that blonde hair, (probably bleached), and bright blue eyes. What really gets me going is that he won't tell me what it is, or anyone, for that matter; He just says he has nothing to hide and walks away. That's just stupid, because I know for a fact that everyone has something to hide, even those prissy cheerleaders who act like they're nothing but perfection. Back to bird-boy, he's just too quiet and wears too many long sleeves, (even in summer!), not to be hiding anything. I'll get that little twat if it kills me...

This next guy has to be the most idiotic and rebellious of all of these little pricks; Patrick Roth. He wears leather every fu-...Freaking day! Pardon my (almost) French, but his obscene amount of it has to have killed over five hundred thousand cattle. Yes, I know this is no reason to despise someone, but he always wears these graphic t-shirts with words or pictures on them that are so unbelievably stupid, it makes me want to rip my own face off and throw it at him. And he raps, every day, all the time, and I'm really getting sick of it! I just want to shove every one of those lyrics back down his tanned throat. I'd also like to punch his teeth down it too, but that's another subject.

Then, finally, we have the smartest one of the five, his name is Travis Blazik. A talented screenplay writer, mathematician, and all that other crap. We'd be best friends, if he didn't insist on disagreeing with everything I said. It's like we have our own debate team; We can't correct an opinion, but we sure as heck try. I sometimes think our animosity towards each other has formed some kind of sick and twisted bond; A friendship of some kind. It's probably just in my head.

All together, the five little primates created some stupid band, Floodlight or whatever. The point is, I hated all of their guts, even though they were the only suitable conversationalists. Guess that's just who I am; Heck, I argue with teachers about their lesson plan, why not make enemies with my only possible friends?

I think listing off all of the people who really grind my gears is enough of an entry for one- Crap! I think my dad's coming up here, and I'm supposed to be doing my geometry.

I'll give you the updates on every idiot in school as soon as I can, (I'll need fifty thousand journals if I'm gonna do that), but for now, I've got to go.

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