Is there something wrong with me? Am I abnormal?
I keep asking myself that. I've always asked myself that question ever since I was a child. I was in elementary school, a third grader who wasn't really special in any way, someone who kept to herself, entertained by books and stories and drawings, instead of people. Not by choice, but because I had no friends. My teachers always used to encourage me to speak up more and to be proactive; otherwise I would never make friends.
"You can't wait for them to come to you. Sometimes you have to chase after them."
They had a point, and I couldn't just give in without a try. One day I chose to speak up and express my opinion. There was a girl in my class that I had admired for a while and I longed to be her friend, so I wrote her a little note and praised her, saying she was smart and even saying that I thought she was cute and that I liked her. My heart was beating furiously, and my mind was racing. I was excited, thinking that this was the chance. I would finally have a friend to call my own! She called me over and I did my best not to jump out of my shoes, I was so giddy with excitement. She was standing there with our third-grade teacher and one of our classmates, holding the letter I had written. She confronted me about it, demanding to know if everything in the letter was true. I didn't have anything to hide, so I answered honestly.
"Yes, I do."
"You're disgusting," were the words that spilled from her mouth.
My heart was run through with a dagger. I was in shock, I couldn't breathe. I felt hot tears well up in my eyes, and I wondered if it was blood from my heart. I never made friends after that; they all branded me as "the weird girl" and I was bullied. That dagger in my chest was twisted, and it hurt for the rest of my time in elementary school. It hurt so much I wanted to die.
I know now that I didn't do anything wrong; I'm not abnormal. I'm just being me, a girl who loves everyone, no matter the gender. What's so wrong with that?