L A B L E L S
If you are smart, why are you placed in the nerd category? If you are athletic, then why are you automatically a jock? A label in my opinion is a prejudiced way of thinking of someone. All you do is place someone in a box, and you automatically think you know them, but you don’t. Just because someone acts a certain way doesn’t mean that they should automatically be placed into one category of people. In school if you are in a different category than someone else, you are in danger of being bullied or unaccepted. Does this seem fair? Of course not! Kids are cruel in high school. I know this from experience.
When I was in ninth grade, I was very scared of everyone and everything. I had just moved from a Pasadena school to be in a Deer Park school. I didn’t know anyone. I was awkward and kind of short and just had no place to fit in. At the same time, I already had a label for everyone who went to school there: RICH KIDS. I had this idea in my head that no one there would understand me because I was poor and did not get to have all the luxuries in life that they got to have. I was so wrong. When I went to school people looked at me and I could see that they were already putting me into a category. I was a loner and a goth, and I looked to be suicidal, but no one really knew me. No one knew that my entire bedroom was pink, and that I didn’t really hate the world as much as I pretended to, yet when I would look at them, all I could see were stupid, vapid, preppy people with way too much time and money on their hands. Do you know why I thought that? It’s because that was what society told me to think about those types of people. It all began on the morning of August 23, 2010.
In my first period, I sent the back off signal so well that no one talked to me, but in second period it apparently broke. This girl named Cassie walked into the room, sat next to me, and introduced herself. I ignored her and went back to staring down at my composition book. Eventually she realized that I wasn’t paying attention. Even though I really was, because inside I wanted someone here to not be vapid and preppy. She told me that I wasn’t fooling anyone here. That she knew that I was not who I pretended to be, and that I should just knock it off. I looked at her, And I mean really looked at her. She wasn’t wearing makeup, she didn’t have on pink or some other preppy color, and she didn’t have any designer labels on or anything fancy. All she had on was what normal people wear… a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of flip flops. A few moments later, we had