Misfits

I looked around the lunchroom, identifying the distinct groups of people around me. There was the jocks, trying to throw food into each others mouths; the theater nerds, reciting lines and reenacting some classic play; the band geeks, reading over their marching band music, and playing imaginary instruments; the preps, you could cut the flirtatious and sexual tension with a knife; and my table. The table of nobodies.
There was that guy who sits next to me in chemistry, he was a teachers' pet; the DJ kid, I didn't know his name; this Asian kid that was always messing with a robot; an emo girl that always talked to herself; the other girl that was always humming, tapping a pencil, and scribbling in a notebook; and me, the guy that no one knew existed.
We never really had a place, no one ever accepted us, we were just...

Misfits.

©IM5er4Lyfe