By the end of fifth grade, I thought that I had figured out how other kids thought and acted. Believing that every person would accept you no matter what or that the worst of your problems was that the kid who sits behind you doesn’t feel like playing kickball at recess. Or how we didn’t have to care about how we looked because we wore uniforms everyday. And if we wanted to "express ourselves" then we could just say it out loud. I thought middle school was going to be a breeze and I was going to be so independent.

As I entered my first day being a six grader, I was terrified. I did not know anyone in my first period class. It took me a couple of days to have the courage to speak to a girl in class. Her name was Amanda and she seemed really