I always used to put my glasses on. I was able to see the world with a clearer gaze. The ones the insurance company were able to cover were pretty appealing I reminded myself; trying to forget the nice blue ones I knew I wouldn't get. They were a light shade of blush that made me feel adorable. I always hated how it clashed with my orange uniform though. My hair would be pinned and arranged with small colorful hairbands that would keep my bangs out of my face. With a small smile I would go to school. The constant chatter and noise made me feel like I wasn't lonely, or well it used too.

I never really would think anything bad about my appearance as I was only in second grade. My parents would always shower me with endearing comments and most of the time I was busy being a child. But once in a while, I would hear a heart stopping statement made from my classmates that made me rethink my appearance. “You look funny with those glasses, almost like you have four eyes” or “Why is your hair always so weird?” And to tell  you the truth it didn’t bother me at first. I would blast out a whole explanation that would leave them puzzled and then not caring again. But as the questions were worded differently and were spilled from others lips more frequently I had a sinking feeling that this really wasn't something normal. Giggles would erupt from the other children when I passed by, maybe they weren't even talking about me, but I became self conscious to the point no matter how much I tried to remember that their opinion shouldn't matter it still made me feel pathetic and anxious.

Eventually when the comments had seemed to bore the other children and they had stopped, but one girl simply wouldn't let it go. She had luminous lemon locks with azure eyes. She loved the color pink as everything other that her uniform was a shade near rose. She would sit with me at lunch and would remind me of my odd looks. Sometimes I would pretend she was my friend with all the time she would spend with me, but when she started to speak, her high pitched voice formed eye rolling statements that would remind me that she wasn’t. Always keeping a scowling mien as she noticed that all my replies to her generic insults were short and polite. “You know Dylan said you looked really gross today.” “Oh, that’s okay. Is he the one who rides the skateboard. That’s pretty cool isn't it?”

Her face would always turn a tint of red whenever she talked to me. Either out of laughter pointed at me or anger at my deadpanned reactions. It wasn’t till she had complained about one of the features that I was most enamored of, my smile. “You shouldn't smile all the time, it makes you look really creepy, especially with your fly eyes!” She simpered looking pleased as my face fell and my eyes slowly began to water. She seemed to be on a roll today as she next targeted my vocals. “And your voice is too loud, it gets so annoying!” “Your hair won’t ever be as pretty as mine, a pretty gold, while yours looks like tied up dirt.” "Gold, yeah right," I thought. Her blond locks looked more like butter to me, I didn't have the heart to retort though. I winced with each bullet of agonizing slurs, it seemed as the sun's glare wasn't going to be the the only thing beating at me today.

When the lunch period had ended I had wiped the tears that pooled down my cheeks and was ready to try to get to class and prepare for my multiplication test. I had thought about trying to tell the teacher again, but I was too nervous that her reply would be the same when I first tried to tell her about my situation. “Don’t be a snitch Miss Helen, it’s quite rude” my teacher had scoffed. Her light glare had made me feel ashamed. It made me question if I was either being to sensitive or the others were just trying to tell me the truth. I didnt want to disappoint my parents with my ‘rude’ behavior so when I got home I tried to ignore the little voice that told me I didn't want to go to school tomorrow.

The year eventually ended and it was a bittersweet moment when my parents had said we had to move, for no longer we would be able to afford the house. Life seemed to try to help me cheer up as I was going to have a little sister soon and I would be able to live with my cousins again. Though it was being considerate, I couldn’t stop remembering the cruel words that seemed to bombard me one after the other. I felt as if I were choking on air sometimes. Life moved on and in third and fourth grade my appearance didn't really change making me feel apprehensive every minute. I did make sure I didn’t talk so loud anymore and I now made it a habit to cover my mouth whenever I smiled or laughed. But I still wore my glasses and kept my hair the same. In fifth grade I couldn't take it anymore. I did something I knew I shouldn't have, I hid my glasses, claimed that they were lost, that I couldn’t find them. Then at school I started to pinch multiple thin plastic hairbands my mom had arranged in my hair. I told her that two or three of them snapped, making my hair look unusual, resulting to the task to take the rest out. She didn’t really question me as my hair was long and thick that it seemed logical. Eventually, I didn't have put the headbands in my ebony locks and I kept my glasses in my backpack, never taking them out.

I never fully regained my confidence back, but as I made real friends in my new middle school, having more supporting teachers, and my loving family that grew, I had not just one but two more little sister, and got a dog. They reminded me that it’s not appearance that makes you who you are, it’s your actions that define your beauty. And if actions defined me then, I would say I might not then be on the bottom near ugly. So now in my freshman year of high school, I do my best to put my glasses on everyday. a lot of the times I fail, but I know one day I’ll remain with a streak of being able to wear them till morning until I go to bed. My progress in trying to speak up is improving slowly as well. My voice no longer being quiet as a mouse, but I still unconsciously check the volume of my tone. My hair still isn't pinned up, but it no longer covers my eyes as I do my best to keep them at the side of my face. It makes me feel as if I could block out the imaginary stares of other students. Progress is slow, but it’s growing. Now that blurry silver line looks much more clear.