I will never forget what it felt like to stand outside the doors of my elementary school. The first day was like walking towards the edge of a cliff; my heart was pounding so hard against my ribcage that my ears were ringing, my hands were shaking so badly I wished I had no hands. Meanwhile my feet brought me closer and closer to my destiny. Those twelve feet from my mother's black Honda to those bright red doors could easily have equaled the march to Calvary. I looked at my mother hoping she could see my shaking hands or hear my heart screaming. I needed her to know how scared I was, how I didn't want to walk through those doors... But she didn't know, and so I continued. How did he know everyone hated me? Having no friends and school brought me no joy. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get Original Essay I thought they were just like me, the kids I went to school with, but for some reason they didn't see it that way. Maybe it was because when I walked down the halls my head was watching them all. Or maybe it was because my accent was too thick or my skin was too dark. In any case, to them I was different, and when you are considered different all you want is to be like everyone else. So I had no choice but to lie. There were some kids everyone knew to avoid and then there were the ones everyone gravitated towards, like Anna-Beth. Her bright blue eyes and Shirley Temple-style hair made her, at the age of ten, the respective queen of our school. She was so kind to everyone, so I'm not sure what possessed her to grab those scissors in our world history lesson 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 to myself. It was part of the biggest lie I was telling myself. “It will get better.” I would say often. But most days went just like today. I would walk into my bright blue and green classroom, walk to the largest desk in the back corner, and wait. Anna-Beth came in with her cute bows in her hair and, as always, pushed our teacher's pencils and papers off her desk while our teacher stood at the door. “Look what you did Judy!” Anna-Beth screamed before running to the desk. Without even thinking, I reached out and scooped everyone up as they laughed. For much of elementary school Anna-Beth and her friends made it their personal mission to bring me down, and every time I covered for them. I helped them with their homework, gave them lunch, even hung out with them on the playground. All with the hope that they would notice me and maybe become my friends. At the time both of my parents worked around the clock. The only evidence I had that they had ever been home were the five left on the dining table every day. The very few times we met in the shoebox-sized apartment we lived in, our conversations were brief; asking the same universal question that all parents have asked themselves. "How did school go?" Staring at my shoes on the other side of my bedroom door I gave them the universal answer. "Well". When I lied they just believed me. My days were spent in fake smiles and fake laughter and my nights were spent under layers of sheets with pillows around me to muffle the sound of my sobs... I often couldn'tbreathe. I enjoyed those moments because it meant I could finally close my eyes. I wanted to close my eyes forever, but at 6 o'clock the ring would get me out of bed to start the day again. Fake mornings, tearful evenings, false mornings, tearful evenings, it seemed to never end. It started by cutting off my ponytail, then moving on to dirt in my lunches, balls on my head, and if they were feeling particularly cruel they would call me Godzilla. This is how they welcomed me everywhere. "Godzilla, run!" Anna-Beth would scream and her servants would run, across the room to the far desk, making all the children who had to sit near me frown. They took the back seats so they could whisper behind me without our teacher seeing, although I doubt she really cared. "Godzilla, move your fat 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 straight getting "A's" to struggling to get "C's." Partly it was because I didn't want to be made fun of for always raising my hand and partly because I just didn't care anymore. What was math for a Godzilla? I would give anything to make them stop. I prayed. I begged. I cried and I think God heard me because one day I woke up and it was time to go to middle school. Anna-Beth was gone, moved somewhere quite far away from me, thankfully. I wish more students had left, but our small elementary school was also attached to an equally small middle school, leaving its minions to 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 trembled as if he couldn't control himself. He often had his hands in his mouth. Once I arrived no one noticed me. No one called me Godzilla or anything else the moment their targets framed it. For the first time in a long time, walking from my mother's Mercedes, those same red doors didn't seem so long. Gone were my false mornings and tearful evenings. I was free from it and once I tasted that freedom I couldn't go back. I watched in silence as they put dirt in his food, pushed him down hills, and threw balls in his face. I stayed as far away from him as possible to protect myself. "Better him than me." I thought. So, in art class that humid November, I looked away Monday morning, minding my own business, as I painted the dark clouds alone while everyone talked to each other. All he had to do was pay attention. But instead he had headphones on and came straight at me, pouring red paint on my clothes, face and hair. It was so quiet you could hear the bees buzzing outside the window as everyone watched. I stood there dripping red as people started laughing. I had fought that laugh for years! His eyes widened as he watched the red drip off of me; “I'm so sorry,” he said. I transformed and channeled my inner Anna-Beth; "You're retarded! What's wrong with you? Of course I was here. How did you miss me? Man. Maybe if you took your hands off your mouth every now and then and opened your eyes people would actually like you." It froze for only a second before taking off with the wind. "Miss Onyegbado, let's meet after school! Nobody move!" my teacher shouted before going to find Dillon. One of the servants who belonged to Anna-Beth approached me with handkerchiefs and helped me take off my clothes..