Shaped (or, my less-than-perfect childhood.)

No, I may not look like an outcast. A loser. A leftover. I've got friends, caring adults, people who are always there for me.

But there's a small, soft spot in everyone's heart—or at least, it should be soft. But for many of us, something along the way went wrong. That part of our hearts is shriveled and pink, or charred black, or even no longer there. This is our childhood, or what's left of it.

As a kid, I was bullied. In small ways, like being left behind, picked nearly last in sports, laughed at when I couldn't hear. I don't remember feeling upset for the first few years of my school life, though, because I didn't understand that they were being mean. I was just too naive, too innocent and happy.

I recall three girls coming into the bathroom while I was washing my hands and yelling at me, "Kimberly, you're too skinny to be healthy." I looked back at them, confused.

"But I'm not sick!" I protested, "I'm fine!" I thought they had meant physical illnesses like colds and fevers. I was probably the joke of their little clique for a while. The leader of the assault, the one who had 'informed me' of my non-exsistent eating disorder, didn't have a father at home and was a little chubby. I have no idea if she even understood what she was saying, or if a bad family life and her weight was making her jealous of the tiny me.

Another memory still recalls me and a friend. This girl much have been the sweetest person I knew, because she wasn't afraid to be friends with me. Her name was Annie. She told me others had been talking about me, and I wanted to know what they'd said. To change myself, if they'd been saying anything bad. all she would tell me, nervously, was, "Well, they said you were really smart..." I was frustrated, but now I'm glad she didn't say anything.

My worst memory, something that comes up any time I'm asked for my 'most embarrassing moment' was when a so-called 'friend' told me to write a note to the guy I liked. I don't know how she dragged it out of me, but his name was Ethan, and he was blond, athletic, and funny. I thought he was amazing. She manipulated me into putting strange, melodramatic things on the note, such as 'If you don't like me back, I'll die.' I don't remember if I agreed to this or not, but because I was already trying to fit in at such a young age, I gave him the note.

He tore it up and threw it in a ditch, informed everyone that he was going to urinate on it after school, and for the entire half-hour recess, my entire class somehow found it entertaining to trash talk me as I sat against a brick wall outside my classroom and wept.

Later, a friend told me a few things they had said. "Mo-fo," and my personal favorite, "homosexual." Remember, I am a girl. I liked a boy. I doubt this child, who was Hispanic and had learned English as a second language, knew exactly the implications of this word. Our rather strict teachers assistant, bless her heart, allowed me to sit outside with a book instead of go in and face the class. I was heartbroken.

It was when I reached fourth and fifth grade that I began to realize that nearly everyone thought I was an annoying loser. My two best friends became Kristy and Annie, and I don't know why they stuck by my side, but they did. Kristy was a grade above me in our 4/5 split class, and Annie wasn't in my 4th grade home room class. It may have started in 3rd grade, but in about 4th grade I began wondering about becoming a different person. Would people like me if I was different?

I came to school one day and pretended at recess that my name was Sarah. The next day, I decided I could do something better—I could change my country. I left a note telling my friends I was leaving and that my cousin, Brittany, was taking my place. I then proceeded to speak with a strange accent that wasn't entirely British, but certainly wasn't American. I got so used to speaking in the accent that when I came back to class, I had to repeat the alphabet in an American accent a few times to get used to speaking normally again. I don't remember how long that lasted, but it did for a while. My friends still put up with my strange antics. I love them.

In 5th grade, Kristy left to another school, a private one that would be so much better for her. I was alone on the playground.

I don't know what happened to Annie, but she wasn't always there. I remember one day I'd had enough. I wanted someone to understand how comfortable I felt in despondency. That I was afraid because every time I tried to be happy, I would feel more comfortable sitting alone, feeling sorry for myself. It scared me.

I took out a notebook and wrote about how much everyone hated me. I left it out on my desk, hoping a teacher might see it. I wrote in my reading notebook, one that I knew my teacher would check. It read, "I might be moving in July. So what. Like anyone would care." And nothing was done. As a final straw, I submitted a paper our school used to report bullies and things, simply writing, 'Everybody hates me.' I expounded a little, describing how sad I was and how I had no friends.

Did the school do anything?

A kind teacher took me aside and gave me the advice 'come up with three good things every day.' I appreciate the advice now because she really was trying to help, and she'd had a daughter struggle with the same thing. However, no one came back to check on me. No one was watching me, it felt. I was alone.

I sat on the very edge of the recess field one day, right up next to the yellow line that said you couldn't cross it until the bell rang. I cried and cried. There wasn't anyone to play with or be friends with. It was the worst moment of my entire elementary school career.

Then a girl named Carly came behind me and asked if I wanted to play with her and her friends. To this day I'm still grateful she came when she did. They put up with my strange tendencies to be obsessed with books, my humor, myself. I never really fit in with them as well as I'd hoped, because Carly was already best friends with another girl who we hung out with. I understood that, and tried to give them space to play with each other so that I wouldn't interfere. It got to the point that Kat, her friend, thought I hated them. I didn't. In fact, it was the opposite. I didn't want them to hate me.

I drifted away from them and ended up with Annie again, who was now hanging out with a bunch of boys who played tag at recess. This was where I finally fit in, and those boys were the most amazing friends I ever had while in elementary school. They were patient with me, and even though I could run fast when I was tagged, they all laughed with me about it in a teasing way, not a rude one.

On some of the last days of school, I remember the teacher let us put our desks wherever we wanted. This resulted in a huge table full of popular kids and a few smaller ones with friends. I moved my desk to the corner because I knew the most popular guy at the big table would probably tease me. Looking back, he only jested in fun, but I had learned to become so suspicious of teasing that sometimes his harmless remarks brought me close to tears. I can still remember his voice, crying, 'Kim,' in a way I learned to dread even though I shouldn't have. I just knew he wouldn't want me to sit with them, so I sat in the corner and cried. At least I was close to my books, which were in shelves in the corner. Harry Potter had become something of an escape, my favorite story in the world that I imagined myself in over and over.

At long last, it was coaxed from me that I wanted to sit with my guy friends at the bigger table. Embarrassingly in tears, I moved my desk because they all told me to.

And Liam, being the amazing boy he was, told me, 'Kim, you could have sat next to us. You didn't need to ask.'

I still miss those boys. Adam is involved in drama, I believe. Ben doesn't get on Facebook much so I can't keep track of him very well. I don't know how Liam is doing, but I hope I will meet him again some day. Annie and Ellie are both not in contact with me, but we'll occasionally email each other and then let the thread of emails die off. Kristy just got a Facebook, and I hope to talk to her again someday. She's still someone I consider a best friend, along with Annie.

After that school year, I moved across the ocean to a country in Southeast Asia. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It took a little while, but I made new friends. Some were a little clingy, some had other faults, but I learned to deal with it. I have a multitude of guy friends and girlfriends to hang out with. Well, not a multitude, but you get the picture. I was elected class representative last year, and I'm involved with many dramas and projects. Most people would say that I'm happy. And I suppose I am.

But if it weren't for that part of my heart that was pink and shriveled, not quite what I know it should have been, I might be truly happy.

My childhood instilled in me the extreme importance of being liked and being looked up to. I had never had that before, and to this day, even though I may have friends who do look up to me, I wouldn't know it. I'm too afraid that my other classmates, the ones who I'm not friends with, don't like me. I place popularity as one of the highest honors.

Today, I still feel afraid that my classmates think I'm strange. I go back and forth between my true self, a little nerdy but witty, and fronts I use to act 'normal' per se, quieter and more contained. Around my friends, even, I don't quite open up to my nerdy side because... well, I don't know why. I suppose that's an issue most nerds struggle with.

All that to say, while my childhood wasn't riddled by bullies and bad experiences, it wasn't a very good one. Sub-par. Some bad memories. And even that has had a huge effect on who I will always be as a person. I will always be looking up to the popular and wanting to be like them. I will always want someone to look up to me and won't know when they do.

Please, don't let any kids and classmates you know have a horrible childhood or adolescence. Be considerate of them, treat them like fellow adults. They will look up to you, and you might just make a difference to them. Even if all their peers hate them, they'll still have you. Please be that for them. Be a friend to everyone, because what happens to you, even through high school, can shape you as a person. Be friendly and helpful. You never know when you're going to make a difference.