Life was different back then, I was different back then, we all were. When I looked in the mirror I saw a little girl who was hurt and hid her pain through anger, her anger at the world and herself. She felt that the world was uncaring and unforgiving, that it was out to get her. It’s funny to realize how much a year with certain people and situations can play a big role in who someone was and who they became. I can say that I am not proud of who I was back in 8th grade, it still haunts me to this day, two years later. 

With all my being, I do not remember what I said or did to make Chase Spence hate me, he just did. He treated me terribly, his cruel words stung like a cut and his actions caused me despair. Chase was in all of my classes, in 8th grade, so I was not able to escape his hostility. He would tell people I was a devil worshiper and that I had demons around me, how I was a Satanist and never getting into heaven. He would make fun of me for liking girls and tell me I was disgusting for being a girl who liked girls. I tried every way I could to make him leave me alone, laughing at him, ignoring him, being nice to him, but they never worked, so I finally resorted to being defensive and ruthless towards him. I used my sarcasm and bluntness against him, my words being just as cruel as his. Our hatred was a fire and our words were the oxygen that made the flames grow. Everyday it got worse and worse with Chase, so much so that I would dread going to school because of him. I would come home to tell my parents the mean things Chase said to me and everyday they got more concerned. My parents told me to talk to the guidance counselors but the counselors were no help, all they did was ask me to write down every time Chase was mean to me throughout a couple of weeks. It’s obvious to say I didn’t do what they asked, I wasn’t going to be tormented by Chase for a couple more weeks just so they could have evidence. After my interaction with the counselors, my mother took matters into her own hands. She called Chase’s mother to tell her all the terrible things he had done to me. I am happy to say that his mom was mortified at what her little boy had done and for the rest of the little year we had left, Chase was nice to me. 

8th grade was torture but there were a few people that made my life better. Xen for example, I had never met anyone like them before. They always had such beautiful and stylish outfits, their makeup flawless and their hair fluffy and soft. They were shy and quiet yet sassy and eccentric at the same time. Xen brought me serenity and support during a tough period in my life, they gave me confidence and hope that everything would be ok. We had almost every class together, only the last two classes were we separated. That was great because I had a friend who was by my side when Chase was mean in 5 out of my 7 classes. Whenever one of us was sad we would have pick up line battles, the goal was to say a corny pick up line and make the other person laugh. This game always managed to make us forget what was making us sad and bring us laughter. My time with Xen was short though, one day they didn’t come to school and I thought nothing of it but then they never came back. No one knew what had happened to them and no one could get in contact with them. After a while I found out that they had gotten sick and had to move to Richmond. I was absolutely heartbroken that they moved, I had lost a friend who brought me peace in the awful year. During that awful year, a little bit after Xen moved, my mother showed me one of her favorite movies, Stand By Me. The movie made me cry because in the end all the boys went their separate ways and lost contact with each other. It made me think of all the friends that I had lost contact with, including Xen. Life is wicked in a way that you can meet someone and them be in your life for a short amount of time, only being a tiny star in your galaxy. 

There was another person who greatly impacted my life in the 8th grade. Her name was Destiny and her presence made me feel happy and nervous, her hugs and the way she held my hand made me calm but also tense. I didn’t know how to act around her and I always felt I would do something wrong yet I was comfortable enough to cry in her arms in the bathroom when I was having a bad day. But I wasn’t good at expressing my thoughts and feelings through words and that caused many communication problems between us. I would shut down and refuse to speak to her when she asked me what was wrong, instead, I just ignored her question and changed the subject. I’ll never forget the day though, when I fully shut down and pushed her away. I didn’t speak to her for days and throughout that time, I realized I wasn’t emotionally available to care for someone else when I, myself, couldn’t take care of my own emotional health. When I finally did speak to Destiny again, I told her my thoughts about why I shut down and how I wasn’t emotionally ok to take care of someone else. I also apologized profusely for pushing her away and that I would understand if she didn’t want to be around me anymore. Destiny was honest with me about how hurt she felt when I pushed her away but she was also understanding of my situation. She told me that she forgave me and still cared about me, and was ok with being friends. I was grateful that she wanted to be my friend and still cared about me but I felt very guilty for hurting her, I still am. I often wonder what life would have been like if our story was different. Maybe it would have been longer and happier if I was able to express my thoughts and feelings with my words and not through actions. 

There is a saying that hair holds memories and I believe that is true. I had short hair for around three years of my life until I began growing it out in the 9th grade. My 9th grade year I got a fresh start by starting at a new school and I wanted to look nothing like I did the awful year before. To make myself look different, I began to grow my hair out and dye it. It was like I was getting rid of the memories of 8th grade by getting rid of my short hair and gaining new and better memories with my grown out hair. Seeing pictures of myself in the 8th grade, with my short hair, makes me think of how much pain I was in back then but seeing pictures of myself now, with my longer hair, I see a happier girl who is learning to love the world and herself.