The Stages.

Stage 1

Ever since I was a small child, I longed to have a normal life. All day and everyday, I stared blatantly out of my dusty window pane, which was crowded with bugs and insects which have found home there and died. The creaking of the rusty, and some how depressing, swing set echoed in my bedroom as the wind blew, and the creaking began to grow fiercer as children invited themselves to play on it. I've always known I wasn't like other people. At the age of 10, I didn't enjoy participating in physical and 'outdoorsy' activities, I preferred to focus on homework and stay inside, suffocating in my own warmth. In addition, all the other kids started to push me out of friendship groups, and began pointing out my physical flaws, such as the birthmark which spread across half of my face. I tried to shield it with my hair, but it was too thin and always ended up tied back. After realising this, primary school passed quicker than I could imagine.

The summer holidays leading up to 'grown up school' showed up unexpectedly, so I began to grow nervous. After a quiet and relaxed discussion with my parents, I went up to my room to think about what they had said. They explained to me, "High School will go so fast, you won't be able to remember half of it!". "I hope I don't!", I thought to myself. "There are lots of people just like you joining, so if you find a group of friends, you'll fit in just fine". I decided to narrow down there sentences to the bits that actually were of some importance to me. Two phrases came to mind. 'Group of friends' and 'fit in'. I have ever been a very sociable child, and I have speaken to few to be able to 'fit in' at all. I felt the need for change.

My first official day at Elderbridge High had finally come. My over-protective parents insisted of me letting them walk with me, yet it was only round the corner. "Would the popular kids be walking by themselves?", I thought to myself. "No thanks, I can handle it.", I exclaimed proudly, walking up the stairs to get ready. After making myself look some-what presentable, I quickly glanced at the mirror, to be startled at what was looking back at me. I have never been more insecure at my own reflection before. I wasn't proud of myself. Looking around for a backup plan, I noticed my mums make-up bag slouching on the side of the cabinet. I shook violently at it until everything inside what was once inside was now laying on the floor. Emptying the contents of several bottles and tubs of unknown substances onto my face, I smeared it all over my face and ran out of the house shouting "bye!".

Eventually arriving at Elderbridge, people were staring. People don't usually stare. "What have I done differently today opposing to a normal day?" I thought. The make-up sprung to mind. Maybe, just maybe, they thought I was beautiful, that they all wanted to be my friends. I stepped in the doors, and several sniggers and sneers of my new classmates echoed in the halls. They didn't think I was beautiful. They didn't want to be my friend. I kept my head down, letting my blonde locks cover the blemishes and imperfections that now covered my face. The whole day, I kept my head looking at my feet, I heard whispers of small jokes as I walked past people, fearing the hatred of people my age and older, I locked myself in the bathroom cubicle until 2:45pm, when we were allowed home.