There are many people in the United States, in Delaware, that know me. Some for good reasons, others not so much. Although I am grateful for them, to an extent. People have been very nice to me. They helped me when I needed help, they became my friends when I needed friends, they loved me when I needed love. Then, some people didn’t help me. They would make fun of me, for what I am, who I am. They did not care if I was a human being, or if I had feelings. They would keep going until the very end. Some people take things like this quite seriously, and either try to reform themselves for others, or worse. I, on the other hand, did nothing.

This began in fifth and throughout sixth grade. I knew from the very beginning things were going to be very different, and very difficult. Whether it’s school, or regular lifestyle, but mainly school. The first thing I had to deal with was my accent. That was the number one thing that made me stick out more than any other kid in my grade, and it was elementary school, teasing one another about the smallest of things was the whole theme. At least it was where I went to. I did make friends in the end, but they did not last too long.

Once I was through those set of grades, I went to middle school. Middle school was interesting for me, to say the least. It was where most kids saw me as something I never expected them to see me as. In the beginning I was confused, are these kids joking, or do they really mean these things? They would call me terrorists, allies of Al-Qaeda, a bomberman. I would walk down the hallways to my classes, and kids would poke me, and justify their actions with reasons such as “Oh I was making sure you got no bomb in there.” I was more in shock than any other emotion. I never told anybody about any of this, for I did not know it was an issue to be dealt with. I was never hurt by them. They would rather make me question the kids more. Why would one insinuate I have explosives in or around my body? Oh wait, probably because all people who fall under the ethnic group I am in, and those who are Muslims, are all the same. Terrorists, allies of Al-Qaeda, and the best of them all, bombermen. Middle school wasn’t all bad, though. I met some of my best friends in middle school. We still hang out, and to this day, jest about the absurd assumptions made by the ignoramuses.

High school was a lot more open-minded, fortunately. I was welcomed in with clear hearts but dark minds. People would question or comment that meant well, but stung like a needle. Also, a new trend started during these times. Homosexuality. So many, I mean so many people would throw not only the word “gay” but the whole being a homosexual individual part around. Sure, it’s not the norm. People shouldn’t be like that, it’s weird. “God made Adam and Eve, and Adam and Steve.” Or so they say. Yes, I brought this up because I, too, was involved in this phenomenon of being a homosexual. Kids would ask me left and right about my sexual orientation simply based off of the way I dressed, and still dress. People came to a conclusion that I was a gay terrorist. A homosexual suicide bomber. That would be an interesting path to take in order to go to Hell. Yes, I wear buttoned-down shirts to school, and maybe a tie from time to time. I wear dress pants and shoes. I comb my hair. I would even walk in with a blazer on if I were to own one. Yes, I like to look good because that is just how I am. Since when was being uncaring of one self a “guy” thing? I was always raised to look good for not only myself, but for others, regardless of where I go, or who I meet.

People have judged me all my life, for what I am. Who I am. What I do, what I don’t do. What I listen to, what I don’t listen to. Who I talk to, who I don’t talk to. Where I go, where I don’t go. It keeps going. No, I am not from this country. Yes, I like to dress nice. Yes, I draw on my free time. I also like to read books, and play with my Pokémon action figures, and I would listen to maybe metal, alternative rock, dubstep, or even OSTs from games while I do those things. Yes, I can be shy, quiet, and awkward when you first meet me. But if you want to be my friend, I will open up to you, and share who or how I am with you. Most of my friends confessed they became my friend because of how different I am, and they thought it was “pretty chill to have someone around like that.” and there are also some who said they became my friend because they wholeheartedly were convinced I was gay, because apparently having a gay friend is like having an exotic pet.
Regardless, this is simply who I am. This is how I was and am being treated still, and I am not affected by it. Let people perceive me as they wish, it will not change how I already am; I am me, and you are you.