'Course I ain't! 'Course I don't want you to ask, what the hell?! So . . . good! Let's keep it like that!
[He crosses his arms, now that his hands are at least kind of clean, and avoids eye contact.]
Who even gives a crap . . .
[But that's kind of the problem.
God, why's that a problem? What the hell's wrong with him that he keeps feeling this way every time he gets exactly what he wants? It's his business. No one cares. He doesn't have to think about it, or talk about it, or explain it. His classmates don't hate him for it. They don't even blame him for it. And they shouldn't, right? It's not like it was his fault. What had happened--it had just happened, and not because he'd started it, either, so . . .
So what's the matter with him?
Forget it, man. This is definitely what he wants, and he's going to take advantage of it if it's being handed to him like this. His shoulders are still tense, hunched up nearly to his cheeks, as if he could sulk so hard he might collapse in on himself or something--but then he lets them drop sharply, with a sigh. It's kind of like relaxing.]
The only people I wanna friggin' stab are CERES for shoving all this bullshit at us in the first place! What the hell was that, huh?! I didn't even try to log in today and here I am gettin' chased by doctors and nurses and jabbed with needles and then whatever the hell that was! Screw that! They deserve whatever's comin' to 'em!
seriously why would anyone want to be
[He crosses his arms, now that his hands are at least kind of clean, and avoids eye contact.]
Who even gives a crap . . .
[But that's kind of the problem.
God, why's that a problem? What the hell's wrong with him that he keeps feeling this way every time he gets exactly what he wants? It's his business. No one cares. He doesn't have to think about it, or talk about it, or explain it. His classmates don't hate him for it. They don't even blame him for it. And they shouldn't, right? It's not like it was his fault. What had happened--it had just happened, and not because he'd started it, either, so . . .
So what's the matter with him?
Forget it, man. This is definitely what he wants, and he's going to take advantage of it if it's being handed to him like this. His shoulders are still tense, hunched up nearly to his cheeks, as if he could sulk so hard he might collapse in on himself or something--but then he lets them drop sharply, with a sigh. It's kind of like relaxing.]
The only people I wanna friggin' stab are CERES for shoving all this bullshit at us in the first place! What the hell was that, huh?! I didn't even try to log in today and here I am gettin' chased by doctors and nurses and jabbed with needles and then whatever the hell that was! Screw that! They deserve whatever's comin' to 'em!