The First Ramblings From My Insane Mind

We've all been there, haven't we?

That point of no turning back. Where you can't turn around and make a run for it any more. It's that point when you realize that the world will not stop and let you get on at any willy-nilly time. Nor will it let you get off once you're there.

That is exactly what the first day of Sixth Form felt like. The first day of the rest of my life. No turning back, no looking away. No hopping off. This was life, Jim, but not as I knew it. It didn't help that my parents had transferred me to a new school. My old one, City Comprehensive, was a school that went from Year Seven to Sixth Form, but apparently it wouldn't help me achieve my life long goal of becoming a doctor.

Yeah. Like I ever said I wanted to become a doctor. I hate blood.

So of course I had to be transferred to one with money.

"Not money, honey," my mother had said. Was she trying to be funny? Ha ha. "One with prestige. Excellency. You can really excel at Wexley."

When I had told her that I'd be able to excel at City, considering I was in the top five percent of the school, she didn't listen. But that's what parents are made for. Not listening. Especially my parents.

So that's why I was moved to a stupid private school for the last two years of my schooling life. Woohoo! Better education my arse. More like snobby rich teenagers with perfectly manicured fingernails giving blow jobs to young hot male teachers behind the rowing shed to make that C an A.

The way my parents see it, you think I would be glad. Or at least grateful. No longer would I be part of the 'rough' ground. Yeah, right. Because rich kids don't go around doing drugs or having sex. They don't steal from the local Tesco store, they steal from their parents who are too busy making more money for them to steal to actually notice.

I may sound like a hypocrite, but I'm not. My parents aren't overly rich. That's my grandparents. But I'm well off enough to be classed as part of the 'upper class'. It was only because I kicked up a fuss that I went to City Comp. My best friend in the world, Lissa, had been at the same infant school as me, before her Dad went AWOL and her Mum became a junkie. When my parents wanted to send me to a boarding school in Hertfordshire, I threatened to run away and go live with Lissa.

That scared my parents enough to let me go to City Comp with Lissa. If I had've known that they planned on sending me to a private school for sixth form, I would have kicked up more of a fuss.

Now I was really freaking out. Day One of Life On Hell was creeping up - tomorrow, to be exact, and there was no way I was ready.

New people. New friends (if I actually made any). New guys. That was one thing to definately look forward to. Rumours were that private school guys had the bodies of Adonis. And wore no shirts while practicing football. On the education side of things, I was shit scared. Honest to God I was. I was easy at City, because I was one of the smartest. Now I'd be mingling with the elite. What if I was only smart at City because everyone else was, well, stupid? What if at Wexley it was the other way round, and compared to everyone I was dumb?

Only one way to find out though.