GFDI, Dave [ DaveKat ]

An Introduction to Inevitable Madness

My name is Karkat Vantas, and rumor has it that I'm a huge suck up with an asshole personality. I love how some people take their their precious sweet time talking pure and utter shit about me. Honestly, it's my favorite thing. If you can't tell I'm being sarcastic, you're a complete dumbass. I pay attention in class and get all my shit done, unlike some students I know. I don't exactly like people either, so with that being said; you can probably guess why they talk shit about me. I don't let it bug me really, I find it quite childish, but eh, I do it too. In this world, pretty much everyone does it.

As I was leading on, school sucks and it is the very definition of prison. I was late for school this one fateful morning, walking down the main hall to get to locker 54. After my third attempt of putting my locker combination in, the damn thing finally opened and I was able to retrieve my things for first and second period. Third period I did absolutely nothing, so there wasn't anything I needed, as well as fourth period. I made my way upstairs and down the hallway to the language arts hall. Mine was room 122, left side of me. I walked into class and handed Mrs. Maryam my late slip, then walked to my desk in the back of the room. Yeah, there were also rumors about me being "emo." Some people don't and won't get the information that emo is a genre of music, not a type of person, through their thick skulls. If you're clinically depressed and like rock music, you're not emo. The same goes for if you're clinically depressed and like pop music. The labels these days, am I right? (Apparently emo is also a style where you consistently wear black, honestly, Audrey Hepburn wore black a decent amount of times in Breakfast At Tiffany's and wasn't called emo, why should people these days get labeled?)

I was minding my own business, working on questions for the staves in A Christmas Carol when the worst thing possible could have happened; a girl came in with that horrifying pink slip that had my name on it. She handed it to my teacher. A Counselor's Slip. "Karkat Vantas." Mrs. Maryam called out, holding up the slip. I slowly stood from my desk, and walked over to her desk. "Looks like the emo is gonna talk about his problems." A boy I passed snickered. I grabbed the slip, a blasé expression quailing my features. Mrs. Maryam rolled her eyes at the boy's comment, "We have a new student and you're being the ambassador, Rose informed me."

"Looks like the faggot is gonna have to have a friend." Another boy snickered. Mrs. Maryam's eye twitched. She was a somewhat closeted lesbian; she didn't come out with it immediately because she wanted people to get to know her before they judged her because of her sexual orientation. She stood, irritation written on her face. "Well, Mr. Hansen, since the only, dare I say, gay of any kind you accept is in your porn videos you tend to watch during class alone im the corner, I wouldn't be talking." She said with a smirk, "I'm married to your counselor, would you like me to call her so you can discuss your problem not separating yourself from sexual videos? Poking fun at gays when you're addicted to the way they have sex?" Her short, talon-like, jade green nails tapped against her dark, wooden desk, "Or would you prefer keeping your immature mouth closed?" She turned her head to me, "Go on ahead, Love. You wouldn't want to keep the boy waiting." I smiled faintly, nodding. The whole class was refraining from laughing at the fact that one of the "cool kids" was told off. I turned around and opened the door, exiting the classroom and entering the hallway. I quickly made my way over to the Counseling Center, slightly nervous as to what this kid was going to act like and confused as to why they chose me to be an ambassador when I don't exactly have the best reputation with people, much less new students.

I didn't exactly know what to expect from someone I wasn't informed about before Mrs. Maryam told me I was being an ambassador for a new boy. I exhaled the breath I was was holding, inhaling lazily as I refused to let my nerves get to me. I may loathe people, hut it doesn't mean my anxiety doesn't sky rocket when I'm near anyone. It happens a lot; I can't even stay at a grocery store or the mall. It's not exactly easy to cover up since most people can read you like a book just by looking at your eyes. One reason as to why I hate people. They just assume everything about you with just one glance. It's stupid really, but I think we all have a tendency of doing so.