I know judging someone by the appearance is wrong. I hate to do it, but usually the actions of the person match the appearance, leaving an imprint on my memory directly correlating the appearance of the person to their behavior. Therefore, it’s only human to connect a certain look to a flamboyant behavior. I do not like to judge people, but not everyone tries to live by the same rules.

I walk into school in the morning and I come face to face with a giggling, whiny, cursing group of individuals gathered in specifically separated circles around the commons area. High school is no utopia, that’s for sure. In mornings like these, I like to keep to myself, maybe at an abandoned table, and I read or write. The squawking from around me presses down on my head like when my fat cousin used to pin me with his buttocks against the floor when rough-housing as little kids. I glance at the table across from me and a gaggle of blonde girls, tan and painted, compare nail colors. As ostentatious as they appear, I like to think the best of people. That is until I hear their conversation amongst the chatter.

“Like I know, that fat girl in my Biology class doesn’t know anything! All she does is sit there and stare at me. Or is it ‘stares’? Oh my GOOOD I totally said that wrong!” They erupt in high-pitched laughter.

From what I’ve experienced so far at this school, you’re separated two ways. You’re either intelligent and don’t like to associate with those who are not, or you’re brains were fried from the constant weed usage or the tanning booth and you have no idea what’s going on where. And there’s the happy medium, who also don’t talk to outsiders. I’m a timorous person, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t tried to talk to the smart kids. I have. They sit over there at the table diagonal from me. A couple have coffee drinks and an AP book here and there. Again, I like to think the best about people, but if someone downright ignores me after I clearly make communication with them, I can’t seem to get around the fact that they don’t have time for a miniscule person like me.

I hate high school. This fractious population of people has truncated my past hopes and exhilaration for a life-altering experience in the best times of my life. Over near the bathrooms, a group of kids with shaggy hair and tight jeans stand in a circle and converse about the weekend. Dressed in studded vests and sporting a peace sign every one in a while, people would label these kids the stoners. How do we know they all smoke weed, aside from the fact that some of them talk about it? We don’t know. Same with the other cliques; how do we know all of the kids in the clique really adhere to the stereotype? I catch a conversation behind me.

“Dude, he was hiding right by my garage in the dark and he blended in just like a n----r!”

The lack of diversity at a school can create riveting effects amongst the population. Though I and others take offense to this kind of speech, our attacks mean nothing. What can we do but trudge on through the year and graduate from this society, expunge ourselves from the Arrowhead crowd.

There is a girl sitting down at the end of my table and she is not skinny and has frizzy, reddish hair. In her hand she holds a Stephen King novel. Others would ignore her because of her supposed-unattractive appearance and possession of a horror novel two inches thick. But it just comes to show even if someone looks different, it doesn’t mean your personalities could be any different.