I look around the room. Room? Is that what I should refer to it as? It's like, there's nothing here. Everything is black except for the people.
Whoops, that might have sounded racist. I mean like the darkest color. Like, the color that absorbs all colors.
Except the people.
I look farthest to the left and see a bunch of creepy looking old people. You know, the kinds that probably killed someone in a war. Or just killed someone.
Maybe this is finding my clique. Since I'm obviously not an elderly murderer, I kept looking.
People, ranging from probably fifteen to thirty, are sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. I watch them pass a joint around and know that they aren't my "clique" either. Sure, I've tried drugs, but it's not my thing.
A little further over are some people that look badly injured. Must have been people that got into accidents. I touch the side of my head that I shot earlier. Not really an "accident."
Lastly, there are people that blend into the background. They're all wearing black and sitting with their heads hung.
Emo kids...
I guess that this is my group. Knowing rumors about emo kids, they must have all commited suicide. This is my new "clique". These are my new friends.
Awesome.
The Punkass Armada Community Member 
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