“You’re a chameleon.” She had me marked before I even knew myself. It took me 10 years to know what she was talking about, but it smacked me upside the head like a heroically thrown dodge ball.

“All you do is follow what everyone else is doing. You are just really quiet about it.” Those words were tattooed into my brain during sophomore year Spanish class. It hurt my guts to hear it, a pain that echoed later in the day when she punched me.

“I’ve watched you come in, all in black, then you slowly faded to grey. Now you smile, and share your opinion, and talk to strangers to try to help out.” Did she know what she was doing? Demolishing all I had accomplished over the last 3 weeks. Changing schools is never an easy task, but I had gotten better at it.

“Don’t use the basket under my desk as a foot rest anymore, your presence alone is bothersome.” I have no opinions of my own any longer, no social clique, very few friends here and there. I’m stuck on the fringes of society.

I kissed her that day, just once.