Confused

Chapter Two

   Let's start with seventh grade, where it all began, where the pain began to slap me in the face. I was signed up to go to a new school which meant leaving my old friends behind and making new ones. Easy, right? Wrong. I was completely wrong. It was the hardest thing ever. I couldn't introduce myself without feeling like a total fool. I was always afraid of feeling and looking like that. I was afraid of being rejected, of my classmates not liking me for who I was. All of what I was afraid of, happened. Oh, lucky me!

   Since no one liked me and I was the new kid in school, I would get picked on. If it wasn't because of the way I looked, it was because of the way I spoke and thought. I would get made fun of so much that it became a normal thing to do. I began to expect the laughs and constant taunts. I was use to it all, but it didn't necessarily mean that I wasn't hurting inside.

     I'd always have these long-lasting knots in my stomach. I'd always worry. I'm always frightened. Of what? What constantly gets me thinking? Why do I feel the way I do whenever I speak? Why do they suddenly laugh as I open my mouth? Why do they stare? Why do they do the things they do to me? Am I their target? Am I their entertainment? I mean nothing to them. I'm just someone they pick on and talk about. I don't think they've ever stopped to wonder what they are doing to me. Quite frankly, I don't think they care. As long as they get a chuckle out of it, they're absolutely fine.

    Seventh grade was like a horror movie, but eighth grade was just the sequel. Not only was eighth grade the year of fake friends, but it was also the year of broken hearts. Yes, I do know I said that no one had liked me the way I wanted. Yes, I do realize that I said I would constantly get made fun of, but there's always that one boy who was different. That one boy who would make you laugh, smile and makes chills rush through your spine. That boy was Josh.

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