As I sat alone in my room, being called not such nice names and also a fifth grader, I stared at my phone crying. I saw things I didn’t want to see, but they didn’t care. They laughed and called me names for it. My friend watched as this happened without saying a single word. She didn’t care. I was around 60 pounds at the time but I was too skinny, as I was told. The next year in sixth grade I gained 60 pounds. Wasn’t sure if it was me trying to gain weight or hitting puberty, but I knew some of it was from trying to gain weight. I am not good enough now. I thought to myself, as I was disappointed in myself.

I was told I was annoying a lot, so in sixth and seventh I became more quiet and talked a lot less. Now in eighth grade, I hardly talk at all, sometimes my friends think I’m mute. When I do people barely hear me so what's the point in trying to talk to them. In seventh grade, a boy went up to me, pulled up his nose and went oink oink. I got out of that classroom as fast I could trying not to cry but I still did. My friends knew there was something wrong with me, and I told them about how certain noises bother my ears. That didn’t matter to my one friend. She made me cry for a while because I couldn’t stand the noises. My parents tell me to talk to them if I don’t feel alright. I told them about this situation, they didn’t care, they told me I’ll get through it. 

Now my sister calls me a mean name and it made me ball my eyes out. Each day she comes up to me and calls me this name. My friends know I need help and should see a therapist, but my parents say I’m fine and I’ll get through it. I won’t though.

I play the role I’m supposed to. I laugh when I’m supposed to. Talk when I need to. Be quiet when I’m not supposed to talk. That is my life, I play the role of the character nobody wants to be.