When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut, like Sally Ride. She was my hero and I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I was going to one day, fly to the moon. My mom would laugh at me and say that she’d never let me go to the moon all by myself. That was in the second grade. I used to think that second grade was easy. Then third grade was easy. And then it was fourth grade in two different schools. Finally it was fifth grade. I remember meeting one of my good friends there. I still talk to her. But more than anything, I remember how there was barely any pressure from anyone at anytime and the worst thing that had ever happened to me was that my mom wouldn’t let me go to a basketball game. Life was nicer, calmer, sweeter and more innocent back then. Sixth grade was a blur. Seventh grade was beautiful. I remember laughing and smiling all the time. I had the greatest teachers and I adored all my friends. By the time eighth grade rolled around, I wasn’t as happy. I think I realized how alien like everything felt for me a while into eighth grade. I found it harder to be as happy. I don’t know, maybe that’s just all in my head but for me seventh grade had better memories. I also fully developed my need for science; theoretical physics to be more specific. I’d write in my journal all about how school was ruining young minds, taking out creativity and how I didn’t want one profession-I wanted to be all knowing. I think it was during eighth grade that I felt the pressures starting to push in. My friends were all pretty and they had pretty friends. And me? I wasn’t pretty. At all. That was the year that I decided I wasn’t thin. So I started to cut down on food, and tried to purge my meals-rarely worked out for me though. I also had this one teacher I hated. She hated me too for the right reasons. I really hate her still. It was also year during which I first cut myself. It was mainly me trying to cut my skin open with a pair of scissors. Pathetic, I know. I may have used a blade once but I’m not sure. At last, the weather became hotter and the sudden feeling of happiness came back-I’d never have to go back to middle school ever again. Ninth grade holds some of the greatest and worst memories. I have amazing friends, and had and still have the greatest boyfriend. It was during the winter that things got really bad for me. It was a sadness that came with the cold, dreary weather. The weather was barren and so was I. During the winter, I no longer existed. I became nothing. I struggled to find a meaning to life. I tried to come up with ways to keep going. During ninth grade a couple marks on my wrist became so many that my wrist now looks like it was marred in a fire. It marks the year I suddenly wanted to destroy every part of my being. I no longer wanted to go to Harvard and go down in history as someone who mattered. I just wanted to be happy constantly. That’s all I wanted. It’s the year my guidance counselor called home about my cuts, the year ACS got involved, the year my teacher saw more fresh cuts on me and told guidance who again called home, and it was the year my mom thought I broke it off with my boyfriend. It was the year I realized that I didn’t like my parents. I began to analyze their every flaw and it occurred to me how sad my family life made me. I had changed so much it hurts to think about right now. The worst part is that I had convinced myself that I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t smart and I wasn’t talented; I was nothing. That was before though. I’m still as bad as I was before but I haven’t yet lost my sense of light. I have come to realize that whatever I lack in my looks and smarts, I more than make up for in my personality. I have learned that my family isn’t the best for me I can have but my friends are there for me at every turn. I might not be okay yet, but I know that one day I will be.