Growing up I always knew I was different. I did not know how to express myself let alone how to interact. My father was in the service and my mom left when I was an infant, so I moved around a lot. Due to my combined social awkwardness and my on the move environment, I was afraid to make friends. In the summer before I began third grade my father retired and we bought a quaint home in his home state of Minnesota. I finally had a home with my own bedroom and I was going to be able to make friends that I could keep. Unfortunately, I would make no friends, my experiences at Lincoln Elementary shaped me forever. On the first day of third grade I was a bundle of emotion–excitement, nervousness, and anxiety. My dad packed my lunch and I piled…show more content… I was ridiculed each day by my peers and my teacher Mrs. Below could do little to nothing to counteract it. I feared for my life everyday. The bullying gave me such anxiety that I could not sleep at night. I would lay awake restless, until I cried myself to sleep dreading the next morning. My dad did all he could to comfort me, but “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you” only goes so far. I began to believe what the bullies had to say. I would skip meals when I was called fat, I tried to mask my ugliness with makeup, and I wore large amounts of perfume, but of course I was bullied about this too. I ignored their comments, but each rude word was a…show more content… Soon enough I was abused physically. I was the victim to endless paper airplanes and garbage crashing into me along with many pushes and shoves. I remember receiving a note–my first and last note–I was so excited. As I read the words from the crumbled up piece of paper tears began to pour. During recess my peers made a game out of bullying me. The only thing my bullies had in common was me. They formed friendships over the cruelty they implicated on my life and that's what hurt the most. Through all of this, I held out hope that one day I'd be seen as a person. I eventually made a friend, Sharon. The bullies picked more after I had a friend, they probably thought I would rebel. My bullies took it to a new level and I hit rock bottom.
One afternoon the lunch bell sounded. I got up from my desk and attempted to exit the classroom. Three boys had barricaded the door and looking around I realized I was the only other person in the room. I let out a loud scream, and then punches began. After two blows to the head I fell to the ground. With each kick I felt like less of a person. Laying on the green linoleum all I could do was cry. I just wanted to die. I couldn't take it anymore. They beat me until I passed out. The bullies got what they wanted,
