My shoulders weighed heavy on my body as my backpack sat upon them. Another day of school. At least that's one more day until summer break, then I can relax. My blood runs through my veins and delivers it accordingly: a few to the heart, a few more to the brain, which reminds me of life.

We all have a purpose, someone to report to, to keep things flowing. To keep the world spinning.

What's my purpose, you might ask?

I’m the negativist. The avoidant. The “bitch.”

When a boy feels the need to comment, he calls me fat or annoying and makes a joke out of me to feel better about his mood swings. I sit there and take it, rolling my eyes, knowing that people have said worse. Still, I count the days until senior year, knowing I’ll be more secure as soon as I can leave this dump.

Then there won't be nagging in my ear about my body or what rumors people have heard.

These boys love to invalidate me when they have nothing better to do, but when a man comes into my life, willing to treat me right, I do everything in my power to make him leave me. I sabotage and say disrespectful things.

I get mean when I’m nervous, like a bad dog, which is why everyone thinks I bite.