Whatever.

Angelo didn't need friends. He didn't want them. Everyone is the same.

People think he's weird, a loser, they all hate him. But he hates everyone too. He knows he doesn't have to be angry, he chose hatred. He doesn't like who he's become, but change is hard.

So he'll stay the same.

People can change for him. He doesn't care enough to change for others, and others don't care enough to change for him. He guesses he'll stay bitter and resentful forever.

But that's okay.

Nobody needs to know he's just as ugly on the inside as he is on the outside. That's reserved for himself and his bathroom mirror at three in the morning.

He doesn't bother looking up when he walks through the hallway of his school, pushing past people and not bothering to apologise. There's no point in being nice, he's not a nice person.

When he reaches his seat in class he glares at the person who is sat on the same desk at him, and clearly had a staring problem.

"Need anything?" He says harshly, not bothering to try and sound polite in the slightest. "Stop staring."