Nothing is ever going to change.

Today was Sara's funeral. Me, Tony, Gina, and her sister went to the mass early morning. It was sad. But these things are always sad. There is no such thing as a happy funeral. After mass, we went to go bury her in the cemetery. I couldn’t help but feel so out of place.

I feel things are no longer fun, and no longer worth trying anymore. Last night at the rosary, my BCIS teacher from United High was there. It was unfortunate that we had to meet under such circumstances, but it was cool seeing her. She always thought I was awesome for some reason. She liked my art a lot. So I said "Hi", but didn't say much after that. I felt this need to see her again and not meet because of this tragedy.

So today, we thought we'd all go to United to meet up with old teachers and friends. Since Tony and Gina don't live here in Laredo, they really wanted to go. I wanted to see Mrs. Garcia again, so I used the opportunity to go see her. We got there as soon as school ended at 3:45pm. Gina went to the Library to meet with one of her friends and I went to the B building. I couldn't help but notice all the kids walking around. Things feel the same, but there were small differences. Today was obviously not a "uniform" day, but they still followed strict guidelines. Cell phones and mp3 players are all the rage. I remember when we all still used CD players.

So anyway, I got to the classroom where she was at. There were some art students there with her. Obviously the "outcasts". They kind of had the emo fashion and the emo personality and they said hi to me without out hesitation since the they‘re always so friendly. I talked to Mrs. Garcia for a bit and how strange it was about Sara committing suicide. She introduced me to the art students there and how they are into alternative music, anime, drawing, and all that good stuff. They also liked that I was an artist and we talked about my future and what I was doing.

The unfortunate thing that really bothers me, is that I only got to talk to her for about 7 minutes before the fucking security escorted me out. *sigh* I can't even talk with a fucking friend of mine there now. I gave the security lady a nasty look and just ignored her and her fucking voice. This was after school hours, I mean come on. Get off your hill, you’re nobody special. You’re not a real police officer, you stupid fucking rent-a-cop. Argh..

As I was being forced to walk out the building I couldn't help but notice that things were missing. There was no longer any coke machines in-between the halls. There were posters talking about the dress code and the rules that they had to follow. There were no longer Longhorn drawings or banners hung up. There were bulletin boards but nothing was pinned up. The cafeteria had no coke machines. Just water, water, and water.

I remembered how I used to think this place was a prison my freshman year, now at 8 years later.. It never changed. It got worse. I called the emo girl in the class “the next generation” and told them to keep doing what they liked. I sat in the bench outside facing yet another poster enforcing the dress code.

There isn’t anymore imagination. There will never be a revolution. Women will never be equal. There is no such thing as an artist. Poetry is history. The system has beaten us. Kay always playfully criticized me how I was against the establishment and being I hated being institutionalized. But honestly it’s fucking sad. The white man won again. They beat us, and beat us, and beat us when were little kids and to how to be a good boy and how to be a good girl. What the fuck is a rebel, these days? Honestly.

*sigh* Whatever. I have a lot of things up my sleeve that I haven’t told anybody about and I have major plans this year, but fuck.. it’s days like this where I just don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to fight for anything knowing it will amount to nothing. Drawing cartoons isn’t going to change anything nor anybody. Sara knew this. Sara was a lucky one.

“Working Class Hero” by John Lennon

As soon as your born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they’re telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill,
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.


John Lennon wrote this song in 1970. Green Day covered this song in 2007.

Yeah, nothing has changed.