Tuesday, 9 September 2014


It was a sunny day in September, the lazy summer rays so typical for autumn found their way into the big room with grey, wooden walls and a high ceiling. I was so nervous I had to wash my hands more than twice. At the same time, I was very, very happy. The event that was going to take place was something that I had been looking for. I slowly walked to the big white door, that was ever so slightly opened. I was to wait there for the teacher.

Suddenly one of the boys inside said my name. Following with an insult. The whole class started laughing, they were calling me names, saying that I was fat and weird and strange.

Suddenly the door opened with a jerk and teacher asked me to come in. The tears were burning behind my eyelids. Don't let them see you cry.

They didn't see me cry, not on that day, nor any day after that.

The first time someone broke my heart was long before I knew what romantic love was. It was on a sunny autumn day when I was going to attend my first class of English with the older kids. The whole class insulted me, laughed at me and humiliated me.

I cannot remember if I ever told anyone else about this. I do know, however, that the event shaped me forever. I would refuse to speak up in class because I was afraid, at the same time I have been driven (and still am) by a desire to be the best in everything, in an attempt to show everyone that I, too, do count.

NaBloPoMo September 2014

1 comment:

ender said...

Wow, never heard of this before. I'm very sorry to hear that you had to live through this. :(