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ring for the first time, the mad dash for homeroom began. I soon learned that one practically required a driver's license to navigate the overly-crowed hallways to get to class. I was frequently shoved, skipped, and stepped on every single day. People must have thought that my name was "out of the way, freshman," "move, little girl," or "excuse you" because those terms were very often directed at me.

Despite the congested halls, I was determined to get to class on time because of an intense fear of tardiness. I was obsessed with making good time to get to class. I made up for slow movement in the most crowded areas of my journey by running in traffic-free areas. It was imperative for me to get to a new classroom early so that I could secure a good seat before anyone else arrived. I didn't want to impose my presence on anyone by sitting near them, and I didn't want to take anyone's seat. I certainly did not want to get to class later and walk in front of several people. I found that the best method was for me to get to class as early as possible and sit in the front, nearest to the door in order to make a quick and discreet exit for the next class period.

Finding a seat in the classrooms was easy compared to finding a seat in the cafeteria at lunch. The only way out of going to lunch was spending the entire period in the bathroom, but there was only so much to read on the stall walls. I eventually braved the long lunch line and the slow, dizzying, and weary march to find a seat. I always managed to procure a solitary seat at the end of an empty table as I entered my own world while eating. Being a lonely freshman, I was often victim to other students coming by to throw an insult and to grab a fry or tater tot. Eventually, my food completely vanished, but not due to my consumption. It was not until several weeks later that a kind upperclassman invited me to sit with her and her friends during lunch. Afterwards, no one came to eat my food anymore.
As I grew accustomed to my class schedule, I slowed down my trek a bit. However, I was always rushing to get out of class as soon as the bell rang. I was always in such a hurry to pack up and move on out that I often absent-mindedly forgot to zip my backpack up as I began the journey to the next class. Instead of alerting me to the fact that I was walking down the hall with my backpack open, people would take advantage of it by disposing of their garbage while walking down the hall. I was the walking, human trash

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