does this make sense ?

It still seems necessary to say more upon this; to elaborate …. yet I resist …. 

The best way to illustrate the …. struggle to …. describe the agony of trying to fit in a snotty prep world …. the generation I got landed with 

   I guess —we speak of the lower dinosaur mind; the Neanderthal mentality so to speak, not to blame the ancients —that lurks heavy in a society I will draw upon Facebook as the saddest method to use as to do a quick study. Ok, they are the ones who are having parties on yachts and going on cruises and showing everyone how great their new interiors are and what shiny new car they really didn’t need. 

And then let’s say there is a tragedy. Not the kind where they can brag about how much they donated. 

This would be if a classmate was suddenly left stranded because some loser other classmate stalked her and kind of awkwardly kidnapped her. 

It’s a funny thought, right? Sickly outrageous. As if! Like does that actually happen in real life? Well, the way these people roll, yeah, because they cover up shit all the time. That loser’s father, perhaps was the school’s superintendent who…. embezzled the teacher’s paychecks , but like I say, it got covered up. Why? Because they know the secret handshake. 

They’re in the cool crowd. They are so cool. 

But the one he kidnapped? She’s a fucking joke. 

Why are some cool and others not?

 Well, some who were not cool was because there was something different about them. Something they just couldn’t get. And if there is a different thing about someone then it was just weird. Weirdo weird. And then—there was the flip side; weird could be a kind of fascination to the other majority (the boys)

From the start, being different was clearly an obstacle and a source of agony and I examining this now because maybe I would not have known this about them had I been where I actually belonged 

If I had just looked like them. Thought like them. Fit into clothes like them ….id never have known how fake their lives are….how empty —and you’d think all grown up they’d be better but no, it is as ever clear the weirdo never left their conversation but what’s do pitiful is, I never wanted to be like them; just to be accepted —for myself for me 

I don’t know what it ever was about being shoved in the wrong place that made them uncomfortable unless they saw in me that fear of what it would look like to not fit in —I suspect that is the truth ….but I never had to fear it because I was damned to start so…. what had they to scare me with? 

They were fake all wearing their pink sweaters on sweater day because they were too scared to just wear what they wanted and be themselves. I picked a plain boring brown turtleneck and went with a pale face and endured their humiliation of me; the mean names; the cruel pranks

I’m not like them. Yay. They can keep their fake trite lives and snub me until the last one standing calls for reunion, I don’t care because if I had to be next to one of them longer than one minute, I think I’d want to tear off my own flesh out of fear their proximity may have me mistaken as one of them 

is it my generation or just thst I was in the wrong place? No—it is thst; the stereotypes were in all the categories as well so —there was no place to fit where I could have landed