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Memoirs: Living with depression

I was a bug-eyed fourteen year old girl making that difficult transition from a tiny little public school into high school, and I couldn't be more terrified. I was different to begin with - being teased and bullied in public school because I was in the unpopular group, and they made me aware of this almost every single day. Looking back upon this now, I see that the only thing that separated us from them was that they were easy, dressed like hookers, and were already giving hand-jobs by grade seven - but I will leave it at that.

I had my small groups of friends, all as helpless and belittled as I was. We made our way into the tall and gloomy doors of high school, leading me into the haze that would be the rest of my school years.

I am not sure how it all came to be, but I started realizing just how small I was, and that life never felt like it was going to get better. My way of thinking quickly changed, thus changing my perspective on even the simplest of things. I practically grew up without any parental guidance, as the majority of my childhood had been composed of 9-5 stays at my babysitters house or being at school with the cruelty of my classmates. When asked to choose the lesser of two evils, I would pick the teasing and bullying any day, as my babysitters house was no better.

The days spent at my sitters were all rather routine. Cheap food, fifteen other kids and babies all in the same house, and being sent to "the steps" if I had accidentally wet my pants. The dreaded steps - spent waiting for my mother to pick me up several hours later. Wherever I went, I felt as though I were the smallest specimen to exist at that time, and with a dark childhood and many things left unsaid, nothing ever seemed to get better.

Our high school consisted of three long halls - A, B, & C, and they were all parallel to eachother. The exception was S hall, which was an S shaped passageway that extended itself from C hall, and away from all civilization. Each hall was lined with lockers upon lockers, and connected at the ends with smaller passages. Now if one were considered a "loser", you would surely try to avoid A hall at all costs, as this hall was lined with benches taken over by the rulers of our school: the dramatics, the populars, or the 'snobs' as we used to call them.

There was a game they used to play - a rating game. Walk this hall if you dare, and you shall be rated according to looks and according to class. So you're a loser, huh? But you aren't half


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Memoirs: Living with depression

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