I hated back then, When I was younger No one really seemed to like me, At least that's what it felt like. It all started when I was just eleven Getting attacked by students, Four and fives years olden then me Did they need to vent out their own anger? Or were they really cardboard bullies? I tried to ask for help from teacher, But when the first one questioned me, Like I was a liar. And the second, who told me I deserved it, I stopped asking for help... Was I really a bad child? Should I ever had been born? Just some questions I would ask myself. As I entered my teenage years, I found out I was different from others, But that just made it worse. I soon stayed in my room when I wasn't at school, Or taken to places to talk to doctors, About how I was different. I also wanted to die, Many times I would hold the knife to my arm, Thinking if it were worth it. ....But.... I always had a small ray of hope, That made me move the knife away, I knew my life would get better, If I just held on until I left school. So I followed that for four more years. Even if things did get worse, To the point of my dropping out of school for a year. But I kept on going, Although I didn't do well in school, I survived. Just because, I believe my life would get better. And it did. Now I'm a different person, To who I was back then. If I could talk to her, I would give her a shoulder to cry on. since I did not allow myself to burden anyone with my tears.