After being spurned, the boy took stock of his surroundings. It was like waking up from a dream. The flowers clutched in his hand weren't important anymore, he realized. He couldn't recall why they had held so much significance, anyway. His mind started whirring, gears turning and clicking, as slowly everything fell into place. This wasn't him. This wasn't who he was, and that girl wasn't the kind of person he had really wanted to seek, anyway. He had dyed his hair to look more grown-up, slathered it with hair gel to desperately try to disguise the kind of person he really was. And where had it gotten him? Spurned by a girl who was so desperate to be accepted by her peers that she bleached her hair and put on that HIDEOUS dress. What was WRONG with him? He didn't even like blondes. Quiet redheads were MUCH more his type.
No, he slowly realized. Nothing was wrong with him. Society was wrong. Society had pushed him to try and fake his way through life, and it produced these kinds of people, who cared little for anyone but themselves. The status was NOT quo. And if anyone was going to fix it, it was going to be HIM.
He threw the flowers to the ground and stalked off. First he had to wash the filth from his scalp and let his natural blonde shock of hair loose. The he had to find himself a good pair of gloves. There was work to be done. Oh, yes, Billy Buddy, he thought to himself. So much work.