I wasn’t prepared at what was going to happen. It hit me like a tsunami and bruised me all over. I saw my own friends change color like a chameleon. One experience was enough to make me live the entire life with caution.

It started the day when I enter the room filled with kids. Some friendly faces, some completely new to me. It was the first day of school. Snickers and unfriendly stares welcomed me. Even the teacher snorted the way I entered. Unsure of how to react, I took place besides my best friend. She’s quiet and shy and doesn’t speak up much, except when we both are alone. I like that exclusivity about her. It felt like she only opened up to me, and it felt good. I used to do the same. But my bubbly nature erupted out of proportions and I made a mistake of mingling with other kids.

So when snorting, smirking and weird glances finally halted, I took a sigh of relieve. I though it’ll all get over. They just saw me for the first time. They’ll get over it. Little did I know that I was in it for life. One snapping back at teacher was all it took; maybe his way of putting me where I belonged, him showing that I had no power. He started making but-jokes about me And not just about me, but about how I looked and dressed. The only fault I had was that I expressed my opinions to him

People I called my friends soon joined in. I was the weird one. The worst dressed, the mutant looking one. I thought it was going to go away. People are going to forget. They will get tired if I ignore them, but it didn’t. They continued it with more frequency and amplitude. They started rumors, horrible rumors about me. They took my resistance as an urge to carry it on.

I asked my self why they did this. Every time I went back home, I used to spend hours in my room just thinking why they treat me like that? Was it because I was dark skinned, obese, not as pretty as other girls or was it because I was different and didn’t dress the way others did? When things started getting more intense at school, my mother noticed changes in me. I had started being more frustrated, dark circles appeared underneath my eyes, I used to resist more while going to school. She questioned a million times what’s wrong. When I never opened up she took it as a teenage phase. Thinking I might grow out of it on my own if she gave me space.

4.5.11 was the day when everything changed permanently. As I walked in, silence spread like malaria in the entire class room. The teacher, who sat in front, cleared his throat. Giddily I walked up to my seat and slummed down. He got up and started teaching us. Worst thing about him was that he usually begin telling us stories in the middle of the lecture. He doesn’t realize the fact that absolutely no one was interested. During this time, I got a note from someone behind me. I slowly opened it and it said “Hi Fatty” I could do nothing but crumble it and throw it on the floor. Next came the five minute break that the teacher gives in the middle of his teaching sessions. That’s why he gets the sheer opportunity to insult me even more. He indirectly makes fun of me, until the entire class took turns to pick on me. My best friend next to me did nothing but listen just like I was. I think she knew that taking stand would be useless as they were a lot of people compared to just us two. The lump in my throat got bigger, tears appear in my eyes. Afraid that crying would amplify their insults as they would get an opportunity of labeling me a cry-baby as well, I looked down at my notebook.

Later when I went back home, I had a good cry at it. I never knew people were so vicious, mean and horrible as I know now. They took pleasure in other’s discomfort. They are one of those predators which love torturing their prey just before they feed on them. I wasn’t going to take this anymore. I turned to music for guidance. Music helped me think. It was like someone cleaning the foggy mirror in front of me. It made me analyze at the situation in hand.

I felt strong. I could take a stand. They may feel good crushing me under their thumbs; feel powerful when I quiver under their presence. But the bruises and scares are witness that I didn’t give up. There are many people in this world who aren’t as perfect as others. They aren’t the “right size” or “right color”, but that does not mean they don’t have a right to live. Just because they don’t look or act in a certain way, they should be mocked by others. So what if we are different?

I learned the most valuable lesson of being proud of what I am, who I am. I no longer cared of what others say about me, because every time I’m shoved by others; I get up shake it off and face them, with a much stronger force. No matter what I look like or what I am, I know I’m a million times better than them.

So the following days, when I entered the classroom, people still acted the same way. But I was the one who had changed the way I deal with things. Every time now they made fun of me, I pity them instead of feeling sorry for myself because they are just too pathetic to be worthy of my time.