I will never forget how I felt standing in front of the doors of my elementary school. The first day was like walking towards the edge of the cliff; my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage that my ears were ringing, my hands were shaking so hard that I wished I didn't have hands. Meanwhile, my feet brought me closer and closer to my destiny. Those twelve feet between my mother's black Honda and those bright red doors could easily have been the walk to Calvary. I looked at my mother hoping she could see my hands shaking or hear my heart screaming. I needed her to know how scared I was, how much I didn't want to walk through those doors... But she didn't and so I continued. How was she supposed to know that everyone hated me? The fact that I had no friends and school brought me no joy. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an Original Essay I thought they were like me, the kids I went to school with, but for some reason they didn't see things that way. Maybe it was because when I walked through the halls, my head was looking at all of theirs. Or maybe it was because my accent was too thick or my skin was too dark. Regardless, I was different from them, and when you're seen as different, all you want is to be like everyone else. So I had no choice but to lie. There were certain kids that everyone knew to avoid, and then there were the ones that everyone was drawn to, like Anna-Beth. Her bright blue eyes and Shirley Temple styled hair made her, at age ten, our school's respective queen. She was so nice to everyone, so I'm not sure what possessed her to grab those scissors during our world history class and cut off my ponytail. All I knew was that my first reaction after crying was to lie. I lied to our teacher and told her that I asked Anna-Beth to cut my hair. I lied to my parents and said I did it myself. This was part of the larger lie I was telling myself. “It’ll get better.” » I would say often. But most days were like today. I walked into my bright blue and green classroom, walked over to the largest desk in the back corner, and waited. Anna-Beth walked in with her cute bows in her hair and, as always, pushed our teacher's pencils and papers onto her desk while our teacher stood at the door. “Look what you did Judy!” Anna-Beth screamed before running towards her office. Without even thinking about it, I gathered around as they laughed. Throughout most of elementary school, Anna-Beth and her friends made it their personal mission to tear me down and every time, I covered for them. I helped them with their homework, I gave them my lunch, I even spent time with them in the playground. All this with the hope that they would notice me and maybe become my friends. At that time, both of my parents worked 24 hours a day. The only proof I had of their presence in the house was the five that were left on the table each day. The few times we met in the shoebox-sized apartment we lived in, our conversations were short; asking the same universal question that all parents ask themselves. “How was school?” » Looking at my shoes on the other side of my bedroom door, I told them the answeruniversal. " Alright. » When I lied, they believed me and that was that. My days were spent in fake smiles and fake laughter and my nights spent under layers of sheets with pillows around me to muffle the sound of my sobs...often I couldn't breathe. I appreciated these moments because it meant I could finally close my eyes. I wish I could close my eyes forever, but at 6 a.m. sharp, the bell would pull me out of bed to start the day again. False mornings, evenings in tears, false mornings, evenings in tears, it was endless. It started with cutting off my ponytail, then moved on to smearing dirt in my lunches, dodgeballs to my head, and if they were feeling particularly cruel, they called me Godzilla. That's how they welcomed me everywhere. “Godzilla, run!” » Anna-Beth shouted and her servants ran across the classroom towards the far desk, forcing frowns from all the children who had to sit near me. They took the back seats so they could whisper behind me without our teacher seeing, although I doubt she really cared. "Godzilla, move your big head." "Godzilla, you think you're so smart." "What gives birth to a Godzilla?" My head was so full of what they were saying that I couldn't hear our teacher I went from getting straight "A's" to struggling to get "C's". It was partly because I didn't want to be made fun of for always raising the grade. hand and partly because I didn't care What is math to a Godzilla? I would give anything to make them stop. I begged. I think God listened because one day I woke up and it was time to go to school Anna-Beth was missing, luckily she had been moved somewhere quite far away from me. that more students were leaving, but our small elementary school was also connected to an equally small middle school, letting its minions torment me. There was one new student in particular that everyone couldn't stop talking about; Dillon Williams. He was as thin as a flagpole and was shaking as if he couldn't control himself. Often he had his hands in his mouth. Once I arrived, no one noticed me. No one called me Godzilla or anything the moment their targets focused on him. For the first time in a long time, getting out of my mother's Mercedes, those same red doors didn't seem so long. No more false mornings and tearful evenings. I was free from them and once I tasted that freedom, there was no going back. I watched silently as they put dirt in his food, pushed him down hills, and threw bullets in his face. I stayed as far away from him as possible to protect myself. “Better him than me.” I thought. So during art class that rainy November Monday morning, I looked away, minding my own business, while I painted the dark clouds alone while everyone else spoke among themselves. He just had to be careful. But instead, he had his headphones on and walked towards me, pouring red paint all over my clothes, face and hair. It was so quiet you could hear the bees buzzing outside the window while everyone watched. I stood there, dripping red, as people started laughing. I had struggled with this laughter for years! His eyes widened as he watched the red flow from me; “I’m really sorry,” he said. I transformed and channeled my inner Anna-Beth; " You are.