Paint me a picture
I’m sitting in my history class, staring out the window. I hate being here. I hate that no one else wants me here. I hate myself for feeling so depressed. Suddenly, I feel a snicker behind me. It comes from Jason, an RB of the football team. I can feel the eyes of more than one person burning into me and the laughter grows. I feel the humiliation rise within me. I haven’t any idea what they have done this time, but I ignore it. After all these years of abuse, I developed an anxiety which...