Sixth and seventh grade were the worst. Ugly, pimply, stubby, I was a teenage girl with red, plastic glasses that were too big for my face, a belly with a wave of fat, and oddly shaped legs. I was that odd, new kid that just returned after studying abroad for more than ten years.

Unexpectedly, I was the center of awe and wonderment. I was the one everyone showed interest in; I was the “it” girl (okay fine, I wasn’t the “it” girl, but I was pretty awesome). People would ask me to say things in English, ask me about how things worked in foreign countries, and how beautiful the places I visited were. If it had stopped there, I wouldn’t have minded at all. Heck, that would’ve been an amazing life! But what came after that changed who I was forever.

I don’t know whether it was jealousy or pure hatred that caused my friends to suddenly turn their backs on me, but either way I was suddenly an outcast. The people that used to wave hello to me or smile would start glaring at me, point their fingers and whisper, and call me offensive names out loud. From then on, everything was flipped around. The whole year I was humiliated in front of my class, was mocked by the boys (not the friendly, flirtatious way), and left out in every social activity there was. I hated going to school. I couldn’t say anything freely, voice my opinions, and frequently ran to the bathroom bursting into tears. Hell was probably better than my classroom (yes, you heard me right. And yes, I’ve been to hell. I saw my classmates there).

The library became my best friend, and I spent the breaks and lunch wandering around the school by myself. I would walk home alone, sit by myself whenever there was a school trip, eat by myself while other students sat in large groups, and pretended to sleep whenever I couldn’t do anything else. No one wanted to talk to me; none of the teachers knew my name; people would shout “loser” or “loner” whenever I walked by.

The bright, smiling girl who didn’t care whether people stared at her fat thighs or ugly face vanished. I slowly transformed into an overly shy, introverted, socially-awkward girl. Depression loomed over me, OCD came knocking into my life, and I developed a fear of people. I would shrink away whenever someone tries to touch me, even from those that are very close to me. To this day, I still can’t make eye contact with anyone. And to this day, I still fear that someone will stare at me in disgust and mock my shy personality like those kids did back in middle school (yes, yes, I understand that this is irrational, but hey, teenagers can be very bizarre).

Thankfully, I left that dreadful school when I moved up to 8th grade. I didn’t look back at anyone and decided to leave everything behind. “Hasta la vista (I hope I spelled that correctly)” I yelled as I hopped on to the plane. Unfortunately, there were repercussions. When I went to my new school, I couldn’t speak. I tried to, of course, but my sentences would come out in unnatural, quiet fragments. People tried to approach me, but I kept blocking them out. I was afraid that if I let anyone in, I would have to relive those horrid two years again. So instead, I became that invisible girl again. No one teased me in my new school, thankfully, but no one showed any care, either. Their interest in me had died when they realized that I barely spoke, that I didn’t go to any parties, and that I didn’t interact with anyone. I became a nobody.

More than three years have passed since those depressing days. I still don’t speak and open up, although close friends and family keep pleading me to. I still hate going to parties, I still hate it when the spotlight is on me, and I still hate talking to people -- guys, especially. I don’t even go outside, anymore, and spend most of my time online or daydreaming.

This frustrates me more than slow Internet. I hate who I am right now. I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like there is a different person controlling my mind and words, preventing the real me to say anything. I want to be the girl I was before. I really do. But this fight -- this struggle to win my own self and battle my fears -- is a pain in the butt. As much as I want to break out of the hardened shell I developed in middle school, it is difficult.

The moral of my depressing story is this: if you see a friend who is shutting people out, is shy, or can’t talk to people easily, approach him or her. It is worth it. You will be doing yourself a favor by earning a friend as well as doing the friend a favor by helping him/her. To you, it may seem like a small act of kindness, but to that friend, it can mean so much more. If someone had come up to me and shown genuine care, I could be someone different now. And please, if you are one of those students that talk behind peoples’ back, mock others, or gossip, stop. S-T-O-P. That couple seconds of giggling for you is worth years of scarring and pain for the victim. Don’t be a douche and wipe that grin off your face. One day that bullied girl or boy will show up at your doorstep and whoop your butt.