She was quietly and not so dilligently working on completing her damned essay when an IM box popped up. It was that strange person again. Some person she couldn't remember but he'd told her he'd been in the same high school as her which did ring a bell but she recalled she'd never spoken more than five words to him. However, he'd been talking to her ever since last year, sending her pages of e-mails and messaging her at the oddest hours. He tells her all about his life, his rants and his complaints and spills to her. She's too polite to ignore him, though she finds him a little creepy. After awhile, he somehow wedges himself stubbornly into her life and his emails and messages are somewhat of a common, expected occurence. Only one problem. She doesn't like him, nor emphatize with him at all. Somehow, she feels as though she's just being used, he just uses her as a soundboard to bounce off his complaints and then leaves. His emails and messages are all about his life and woes. He does ask her how she's doing, but she always answers vaguely, because she still thinks he's a stranger.

She doesn't like the fact that he's set up a stereotype of her. And that he tells her she couldn't possibly understand the pain he's been through. She doesn't like people who make up their own judgement of her. Or people who complain and whine about how depressed they are. She thinks it's just a cry for attention. She despises it. She herself thinks that she's been depressed as well, but she never shows it to anyone or confides in anyone because she thinks it's pointless. But he tells her she's a 'preppy cheerleader' type and she doesn't have to worry about anything. This really gets on her nerves.

So that day, the IM box pops up, and she's in a .. strange mood. He proceeds his usual routine of spilling his awful life to her. He also claims that he's extremely tortured because he always needs to fend for himself with all the problems he has. She replies somewhat sarcastically that she's heard all about his problems. He tells her that she's the person he confides in. She doesn't feel the least bit flattered. He tells her he never complains to anyone else but her. As said earlier, she was in a strange mood. She replies that she'd never think they'd ever be friends. He's curious. He wonders why. She's extremely tempted to write that she hates his whining and thinks he's just crying for attention. But she replied that she doesn't think they click very well. He begs to differ and says that they're two of a kind. Which she rolls her eyes at because he's always exclaiming that she'll never understand him. She tries to tell him that she doesn't think they'd be good friends because he thinks that she's someone that she's not. She's not a preppy cheerleader with no troubles. But she knows that if she says this, it'd indicate that she has troubles, and that'd be confiding in him, which she will never do. Not to him, not to anyone. She sees this as a sign of weakness.

He's still pressing her for an answer on why she doesn't think they'd be good friends. She asks him what he thought of her in high school. He said that she thought she was those airheaded popular types. She was never a cheerleader, or popular.

"Oh. I never thought I was that. But that was who I was trying to be."