Loser in High School

No, I was–I was a loser in high school. It was my fault, though. Like, I realize it, uh– it’s my fault. I went to three different high schools, okay? The first high school I went to, I was like, “Wow, everybody here is a fucking asshole.” And then I got to another high school, and I was like, “Wow, lightning strikes twice. Everybody here is a fucking asshole too.” And then I got to the third high school, and I was like, “Oh, it’s me.” I was like, “It was me the whole time.” I looked down, I had a rolling school bag, I was like, “Perhaps I had something to do with this. I think it might have been my fault.”

No, fuck that! Why is the rolling school bag the gay one? I never understood that. That makes no sense to me. Grown–grown adults– “Ay, you’re a fucking loser. You have a rolling school bag.” I never understood that. What, do you want to carry your books like a peasant? That makes no sense to me. Fucking roll down the hallways like a G, rolling your fucking textbooks. “What you doing?” “Studying, motherfucker.” Like, why is that– why was it lame? I never understood that. I had a rolling school bag for four years. I loved it. Yeah, even though I looked like I was waiting for a flight for, like, four years. People used to make fun of me, and what sucked was, I never flew before, so I didn’t know that they were making fun of me. I actually thought that they were helping me. I’d be like, “Hey, man, can you help me find Science?” And they’d be like, “Yeah, I think it’s in, like, terminal four.” And I’d be like, “Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate it. Thank you.”