Slowly he walked down the hallways. His head ducked down, and his eyes slightly closed. His head was slightly turned towards the wall; he was trying to hide his tears. The slow movement of his tears felt like wet drips of sand, gently carving paths of heartbreak across his face. His heart felt as if it was on fire, and his mind was a jumble of thoughts. Why did kids have to be so mean to him? Was he really so different then them? Was he really the freak they accused him of being?
A door jutted open in front of him, and turning quickly out of the way, he ran to the bathroom. He had to be alone. As he entered the bathroom he caught site of his reflection. Turning his face slightly toward the mirrors, he took a good long hard look at himself. He starred into his own deep dark brown eyes. His tears streamed do
I also made a realization. One of my stature could fight back. After years of this… this hell, I began to. One morning they started in on me as always. Punching me in my arm. Yelling in my ear. And something, something simply snapped. My innocence died, as I felt my soul slip away into a black pit. My heart broken and shattered into a million pieces from the years of hurt, began to burn as if on fire. And with this snap, my fist whirled around and smashed into the face of my victimizer. I then proceeded to hit him again, and as I saw the blood flow out from his nose, I grew more rageful. In my mind, I screamed at him, and this is for… and that is for. And as I took this person, this young man apart hit by hit, I found that I, me, ME! was the one who was powerful. And as I stood over him, the victor, I re
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