Some people graduate, but be still stupid.
Show me the man who has enjoyed his schooldays and I will show you a bully and a bore.
I've been exhausted since ninth grade.
It comes down to one question. Will you survive high school? Will I survive? Because I know too many people who didn't. In the past two years, three people who I loved have died. And two...two other people...who I thought I hated, also died. But I learned that hate is too simple. Jessica's right. Hate is easy. Love and understanding are harder. But they are how we take care of each other, how we survive. My dad loves to tell me stories about when he was in high school. The stories usually involve chess club and obscure bands with funny haircuts, because the '80s were a strange, strange time. But he always gets one thing right. He knows high school can hurt. That it can be painful. That there are days when that's all it is. And he once told me that he's living proof...you can survive. You can get through it. He's living proof, and so am I. And so are all of you. And the thing is, for me, for us, this class, this...generation, high school actually is life or death. We show up every day not knowing if this is the day we die. If this is the day someone shows up with a gun and tries to kill us all. We practice what we'll do if that happens. Life or death. I suffer from anxiety...and, uh, depression. But mostly anxiety. I sometimes think all of us kids do, in some way. And how could we not, with the world the way it is? We hear a lot of promises that things will get better. And...and, look, maybe they will, maybe they won't. And what I think I've learned, what I wanna say to you...is whatever happens, keep moving. Get through it. Choose to live. 'Cause even on the worst day, there are people who love you. There's new music waiting for you to hear, some...something you haven't seen before that will blow your mind in the best way. Even on the worst day, life is a pretty spectacular thing.
See, I can guarantee that one of the reasons you're still listening is that you really want to know... who are the others? Who else is responsible for my death? Well, you're going to learn soon enough. And, of course, they're going to learn about you, too. If they haven't already. What? Feeling paranoid? On edge? Yeah. High school does that to a person. You never really know who you can trust. And who you can't. So keep your wits about you. It's all part of the game. But, remember, it's not a game. Not at all.
Well, when we grew up and went to school,
There were certain teachers,
Who would hurt the children in any way they could,
By pouring their derision,
Upon anything we did,
Exposing every weakness,
However carefully hidden by the kids.
But in (but in) the town it was well known,
When they got home at night,
Their fat and psychopathic wives would thrash them,
Within inches of their lives.
Worm's dad did the grounds, when he wasn't too fuckin' drunk. That's when we did 'em. Of course, the grounds weren't all we did. 'Worm' put us into a scam a day on all the young aristocrats we went to school with selling 'em dime bags of oregano, nunchakus and firecrackers from Chinatown. Kept us in lunch money. Until the time we went for more than just pocket change and got caught. We had the starting five take a dive against Friends Academy. They hauled him up before the school board, offered him a deal. Tell us who else was involved, and we'll go easy on you. 'Worm' didn't say a fuckin' word. Got himself expelled. I stayed in school and graduated. Not many guys would stand up for a friend like that.