As summer decends upon us to grip our lives in an oven mitt that's been holding something really really hot, I am alternately sickened and frustrated with my fellow female teen.

Because I am me, and I hear everything that goes on inside my head (trust me, it's scary), I am not a good judge of my own behaivior, so for all I know I may be yet another sheep baa-ing down Baker Street.

I shouldn't speak. But I'm gonna. 'Cause dammit, you can't stop me!

I look at my fellow teen as the hoodies and sweatpants are exchanged for a monotonous stream of pink hibyscus printed short-shorts and nondescript tanktops. Baggy belly pockets are exchanged for cute little purses and runners are morphed into cheap plastic flip-flops.

Everywhere.

God help us all. God help them all.

Why can't anyone have a little originality?

I watched the dresses at the Grad ceremonies.

I think (not to brag) my Elizabethan one was the best one of all, or at least the most unique. People came up to me and told me so, too.

People I didn't even know.

It was weird.

Everyone else was in shades of blue or purple or red (those seemed to be the most dominant shades), sheer dresses with up-do's.

Wait. No. There were some nice unique ones.

Candace's dress was Victorian. It looked much like one of the dresses that Kate wore in Titanic. It was gorgeous. Suited her beautifully.

Adele's was blinding. No, really. It was. It was completely silver. A perfect 'princess dress', except it was made completely out of shiny silver material.

Danielle wore a very highlandish dress, in red plaid, with lots of black leather straps and buckles. Her date wore a kilt. They made a really funny pair.

Lindi and Ivy...well, that was to be expected. They wore various mashed combinations of things, as usual. It was really pretty.

...that's just about it, I think. Out of over 250 grad's.

Bah.

Stupid sheep.

Bittie and I have a bad habit of walking through the second floor, the place where the sheep congregate, and baa.

It makes me feel a little better.

The human state is disgusting.

We are animals, despite what people think. We are nothing but another species on this planet. We should co-exist, not dominate. We should not impose on other species.

The natives of days of old had it right. Co-exist with nature. Don't take more than you need. Help others if they need help.

The frivolities of the human race make me sick sometimes. I watch the herds of little girls swarm down the street, giggling their cute high-pitched mating call, their pink flip-flops flapping, coloured hair flipping...

You know, it days of old these girls would be considered whores.

I don't really think I'm better than them. I just think I'm...removed from them. I am not like them and they are not like me. We are different.

We are not the same.

I am the rogue, the missmatch, the one with something not quite like the rest.

There are others like me out there, precious few.

Sometimes I wonder what they think, the cattle. I wonder if they know they're living to go to the slaughter of society.

I doubt it. Poor things.

I tried to be like them once, but me and my big green pants and copper lipstick just didn't fit.

I really did. I tried to be like them once, but I didn't like it.

My mother always said I've always been different.

I was miserable for years because I couldn't be friends with them.

I'm still not, but I have lots of nice, unique friends who are what they want to be.

I dont expect them to change and they don't expect me to change.

Viva friends.

.

Rosie.

Before&After