Years later as I grew older, the more the trouble I began to see also to grew. I finally became a 6th grader, and that meant I was on my way to middle school and at first I was pretty excited, because I felt for once I could be liked by many people, and have many friends to talk to and just enjoy being more mature. Of course I had the wrong mindset at the time, because my middle school was split between a magnet school and normal school, and I was enrolled in the magnet program. To best explain my time in middle school while being in the magnet is with a simile: A murder stabbing you in the heart deeper every year. My first year I was trying to find out where I fit in like everyone else in who was new, but my problem was I didn't know how to do that, and that cost me, I became known as the lone kid, the kid who was solitary, rarely seen talking, and made fun of. In the beginning I tried to be the nice guy, but I was too nice, so much that I let people step all over me and soon I became everyone's personal doormat. My sixth grade year was also the year I had my first crush, as well as my first heartbreak. I personally thought I had the greatest chance with her... Lexy, but when I saw I was wrong, my entire soul just shattered, and she didn't understand how much it drove me to insanity. My emotions at that time were more uncontrollable than a car with blown out tires on ice. The first taste of heartbreak was also the same time when I saw my own blood leak all over my body. The taste of heartbreak was a bitter taste, a dark, sour, negative, horrible, bitter taste. I tried so much to get rid of that horrible taste outta my mouth, until I lost it and started breaking everything in my path, burning trees, plants, metal, myself. I went down a dark road, the road that leads me into my own defeat, and I continued to destroy and cause damage, so much that the taste of my own blood was like my regular drink. Lexy the girl i had crushed on for so long was finally seeing what her rejection had done to me from the looks of my scars, burn marks and pain flowing through very soul, she knew she had to something to stop me on my dark road. She became a friend, really one of my only true friends in middle school and she would comfort me in my time of need. I felt for once I was wanted and I promised her that I would help her out whenever she needed and that I'd always be there for her. As the year progressed, I became more calm and ended sixth grade year pretty well calm, but of course that wouldn't last either. As the new school year I began to enjoy being more violent, but still would not start a fight. My seventh grade year I would like to think was probably my worst year, for many, many reasons, but I'll start with one: New wanna be bullies. At the time I was about only 13 just becoming a teenager, and all of us who have been a teenager know what it's like during those year, and I was barely getting a taste of those new hormones and emotions. The first day I met one of my first middle school bullies....Eduardo was an average Monday I was just getting outta class to go home, but he decided to follow me with a friend of mine, and my friend was actually the reason the whole dilemma started, because he said "Hey Robert I bet you can beat up Eduardo easily."
Eduardo feeling cocky responded "Him beat me up?! haha that's nice to have dreams how could a fat gorilla like him beat me up when he can't even run for five minutes without fainting."
I was beginning to rage inside and replied "Listen you can't underestimate me, just because I am bigger than you, doesn't mean I am incapable of harming you."
Eduardo then said "Is that so, then try me come on, hit me."
I knew better, I knew if I started the fight I would get in the most trouble, so I figured to try and stay calm and not start the fight, no instead I came back with "Since you're the one talking your head off, how about shut up and back up your words, you get first shot."
Eduardo looked back and walked away. I thought that would be the last I heard him trash talking to me, but once again I was wrong. Everyday I saw him he would mock me, laugh at me, and still made fun of my appearance, until I could no longer take it. We were going back to class with a group of people, because we were doing activity outside, and the door was locked, but right before I could knock on the door Eduardo told me "Oh you shouldn't waste your energy knocking on the door, you're way too fat to be wasting on little things, allow me."
I was boiling fury at that point that I knocked the door as hard as I could, but I didn't really know my power, and the door broke and fell to the floor. I didn't notice until someone screamed "Oh my gosh!!!!"
I looked back and realized what I had done, and I just left class trying best to calm myself, and ran away. I was sentenced to the counselor the next day, and she asked me what had happened yesterday, and I ended up telling her the entire story between me and Eduardo, but before the counselor could say something, somebody came in. It was Eduardo he came to tell the counselor about what he did to me, and he felt really bad, and then Eduardo noticed I was on the couch and he apologized to me. On that day I may have not forgiven him, but I respected him for coming to do the right thing. For a while I was fine, and then realized it was only the beginning of seventh grade year! I thought maybe everything would be alright now, but of course yet again I was wrong.