When I was in 5th Grade, I was depressed. I was extremely unhappy with how my life was going at that point, and did horrific things such as starving myself, having outbursts of rage, and being anti-social.

None of my friends really cared, and to add insult to injury, Most of the time they actually taunted me over these things. I was essentially a pun, a joke, a punchline, and there was nothing I could do.

Assistance was more of a joke than anything else. Nobody cared. Nobody except me. People acted like they cared, but in REALITY, people just did nothing to stop it. They would send me out of the room if i had a mental breakdown, but that did nothing about the cause, and it was extremely embarassing.

Later that summer, I cut part of my left thumb open with a pocket knife. I now have a permanant scar on my left thumb. I don't fully remember if it was intentional or not, but I do remember I was in a terrible mood that week.

It wasn't fair, but as I entered 6th grade, REALITY hit me.