I was always the joker. The one who could make people laugh by some stupid lame joke, and I liked being the class clown. I really did. I wasn’t particularly good looking or really athletic nor was I a straight A student. In other words I was never very popular but people liked having me around and that had always been enough for me. It all started when I changed schools. 9th grade changed everything. I had a group of friends and we used to sit in the last rows making fun of everybody. However, my “friends” they always kept quiet. They’d never say the things we said about others in front of them. Let’s get one thing straight, if you asked anyone to define me in one word that word would probably be: MEAN. Yeah, I was mean. I was cruel. I used to make fun of people’s pronunciations, the way they walked, the way they looked, make sarcastic remarks whenever they talked. I’s purposely whisper their names when they’d walk past us to make it look as if we were talking about them.  I could make people cry if  I wanted to just by my words .But, I never understood why people would let my remarks get to them. I was the shortest girl in class with square-shaped glasses and reddish brown hair which I tied in a ponytail. I was never your normal high school mean girl. I was never called beautiful, pretty or gorgeous. I never understood why what ‘i’ said could hut others. I hated them. By, them, I mean everyone. The teachers, my classmates, my so called friends, everyone. It wasn’t much better at home. I was disrespectful, rude and again cruel. I’d do all sorts of things to hurt my parents. I’d call them names, shout at them, tell them to back of and when they didn’t I’d shut myself in my room and play my music as long as I could all night long. ‘Headphones on, world off.’ –that was my mantra. I didn’t want to let anybody in and nobody tried either. I was so confused. I didn’t know what to do. My grades were getting lower. Teachers would taunt me, haunt me. They’d compare me to my sister making me feel like a complete nothing. `My parents didn’t understand where all this frustration came from. Neither did I. I just wanted everything to stop. I started to spend hours on tumblr looking up depressing quotes. I lost the will to live. I wanted someone to help me but, I dint want to be the one to ask for help. I wanted them to try to get me to open up to them and if I didn’t I wanted them to try harder. But, no one ever tried. My clothes turned black, my hair longer and my music louder. I was angry at everyone. So, I became even meaner. I’d talk back to my teachers, insult them in front of everybody. I didn’t care about anything. I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to live. One day I came from home tired and angry. I went to my room and started looking for my headphones. I searched for them a lot but no matter how much I searched for them I couldn’t find them. I looked under the bed and underneath all the mess I found a long lost video camera, one that had been lost for years. I went to the living room and connected the camera to the T.V. There were hundreds of videos of me, literally hundreds. Me as a baby crying, dancing as a toddler, my first day of school etc. I didn’t know when my mom came and sat beside me. Suddenly, there was my dad holding my hand ruffling my hair and my brothers and sisters laughing as they watched me as a two –year old fall down flat on my face. We watched the videos together, smiling and laughing as we recalled the good days. For the first time in a long time I was at home. At night when I went in my room I started crying. Tears of happiness. I was happy. So what is school was bad and life seemed tough? Right now, there were people standing beside me who would be there with me forever and that was all that mattered. I was love greatly. I wiped the tears from my face and thought silently to my self-“What’s a little pain when you have so much to love?”