Seven Nation Army (DISCONTINUED)

Last Year's Wishes Are This Year's Apologies

(I'm Like A Lawyer With How I'm Always Trying To Get You Off)

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Patrick.

It's just that he can be really damn annoying sometimes. And frustrating. And annoying. Did I say that already?

Worst thing is, I can't do my own thing anymore. He's doing exactly what Camper told him to do, which is his job, but damn sometimes I wish he could slack off a bit.

And I can't do the things I used to do or else I'll get a bad report. So I have to eat or drink whatever shit they give me, talk in Group Therapy, 'socialise' during Outside Activities.

"Wentz!"

Dammit. Can't ignore someone yelling at you if they're right in your fucking ear. I snap my head to glare at Patrick, rolling my eyes at his exasperated sigh. "What."

"S' dinner time."

"Don't care."

"I let you off last time, but you can't keep-"

"I can," I get up and glare even harder. "And I fucking will. Go put in a bad report, get me in solitary confinement again. Lock me away with my thoughts, while you all go and have the time of your goddamn lives!" And with that outburst, I do something I've never done before, I punch Patrick.

I don't give myself time to regret my stupid decision, I just storm out and run straight to the cafeteria. Kicking out a chair, I flop down and cross my arms. I see Camper glaring at me, I see Tyler having a 'conversation' with 'josh', I see Mikey poking his food with his fork. They're all fine. Sure, they're a little messed up in the head, but none of them have ever been in SC. They've never been threatened with it. So why am I so goddamn special?

Actually, I don't want to know.

Patrick comes in five minutes later holding an ice pack to his jaw. Some food gets out in front of me. I don't pay attention. Don't really care anymore.