I don't know yet...(story) READ IT PLZ!

Who's to judge
Who's insane
Watch it all wash away
Save us from what we've made
It doesn't die it only fades
If can't feel there isn't pain
Another day it's all the same
I always pray I never change
It seems to me we're all to blame
Push your matches, no more rain
Burn This * World Today

I see the streets burn every time I fall asleep
I'm losin' all my sanity
I can't hide from the voice
That speaks inside of me

My ipod blared out in the car. I was listening to Street Dreams by Hollywood Undead, one of my favorite bands of all time. “Turn that * down”, my sister told me. I just rolled my eyes. “No swearing. We’re in the neighborhood now, do you really want to make a bad first impression? First impressions are everything!” My mom told us in her fake way too excited voice. I rolled my eyes and glared at her, really not caring what she said either way, right now. I looked out the window, we were in the neighborhood. Great... We just moved here from Colo--rado to Nebraska. I know, the 2 most boring places in the world. Why, you ask, did we move. Because my parents are selfish a* holes. Well actually it’s just because my dad got offered a “much better” job here, but also the other thing. My mom saw the look I gave her and sighed. “Oh come on Danny, it’ll be good for you. A brand new fresh start”, she said. No mom, it won’t. She just doesn’t get it, no matter where you go you’re who you are and you’re thought of as whatever you look like. Like your stereotype, that’s what people think of you everywhere you go. Or what they’ve seen. “I was fine where I was”, I mumbled. She just didn’t get it. Another thing about moving, it doesn’t change your family life either. Still the same people, and still the same things that happen. Specifically, my dad. I looked up at our new house as we pulled up into the driveway. It was bigger than our last one, I’ll give it that. If you can’t already tell, then there’s really something wrong with you: I am not very ecstatic about moving. “Danny, get out”, my bratty little 11 year old sister whined. I’m 15. And my name is, as she just said, Danny. And no, not Dan or Daniel. Never call me that, I hate those two names. I’ve always gone by Danny. Always. It just sounds...more like me, I don’t know. Oh and if you’re wondering, well I might as well get this out of the way, if you’re gonna stereotype me, which, let’s face it, everyone does, people would say I’m emo. Don’t ask me what that means. I mean, you wouldn’t because everyone does, well at least they know the general idea. It means you wear black, listen to music, and skateboard basically. And I do all of those things. I don’t really need to go into any other details, so yeah. I don’t give a * what people think, though, so call me what you want. If something gets to me, I lash out in anger, probably, well most of the time. Ok, so anything else about me...hmm well right now I’m wearing... Yeah, ok, I know it’s weird for a guy to describe what he’s wearing, but I’m trying to give you guys an image of myself here. So anyways, I’m wearing a blue plaid shirt, black skinny jeans, and grey converse. I hopped out of the car, dreading the rest of the day. After we got all of our stuff, we went inside and picked out rooms and all that . There was a knock on the door. I checked the time when my mom went to go answer it. It was 6 pm now. What am I even supposed to do here? I don’t know anyone, I don’t even know the fri kin area for crying out loud! School is starting soon, there’s like 4 days left of summer. But still. I wish my parents had moved us like one day before school started. I’m gonna be bored sh i t less. I heard talking downstairs, and there was more than one person. Great. Company. Shoot me. “Angela, Danny, get down here!” My mom called to me and my sister. F. God, how I hated meeting new people. Well I knew I was gonna hate meeting these new people. My sister looked at me and rolled her eyes. “First they make us move, then they make us meet new people”, she says. I nodded. One thing we had in common and could agree on. “You go first”, I said, pushing her in front of me. Angela had dark brown hair with blue eyes, while I had really dark brown hair, almost black, and green emerald eyes. People usually called them green emerald anyways. For a guy my age, I was pretty skinny, but I wasn’t that short. I guess I was average height, and kinda muscular. It’s hard to describe myself, I guess. We walked downstairs, and in the living room there was 2 people who looked about my parents age, like in their 40s. Next to them was a girl who looked like a little younger than me, maybe a year or so. Next to her was a guy who looked about my age. The girl was pretty with dark blonde hair with brown eyes. The guy had brown hair with blue eyes. I couldn’t exactly label him, he didn’t really look like a jock or emo or a nerd or anything. It was hard to tell. I wasn’t going to judge though. The girl looked normal, and you might be wondering why I’m not like saying she has a hot body or anything, because if I was a normal guy, then trust me, I would be saying that. But here’s the problem, I’m not a normal guy. Well I wouldn’t not call myself, but I’m not the average guy.