The room was chilled to a degree too low, even in summer I shivered slightly, regretting leaving the sweater I packed last minute in my suitcase three stories up. The Holiday in Express’ unconvincing, fabricated home-sweet-home-ness surrounded me and my friends as we sat devouring breakfast in the suburbia of Chicago. I shoveled greasy bacon and rubbery eggs into my mouth and swallowed thickly. Our small group of eight, which included my sister, Danielle, sat, chatting cheerfully, discussing our year apart. It was the summer between my seventh and eighth grade year. I had just turned thirteen and was the youngest of the bunch. We’d been friends since birth and we got together every year at our church’s annual family bible conference.

“So, I see you got glasses Emily.” Cammie, the oldest, said as we sat surrounded by piles of muffins and bagels and questionable meat.

“Oh yeah. I don’t really like them to be honest,” I responded, “I think I look much better without them.”

“Well, most people look better without glasses. That’s why they invented contacts,” Cammie said simply. I chewed my flavorless eggs thoughtfully.

 “No, not everyone. Danielle looks terrible without her glasses. I’m not saying she’s ugly, it’s just a good thing her eye sight is so bad because, really, glasses suit her. Here, Danielle, show them….” I replied as I reached across the table to take her glasses off her face.

 “HEY!” Danielle said, as she swatted my hands away, not quite offended, but still annoyed.

“Oh my gosh, Emily that is so mean. You can’t just say stuff like that!” Cammie said, staring at me incredulously, as if I was an alien life form come to zap all the human’s politeness away. I stared back in surprise, the air conditioned chill speared my heart and my knees bobbed up and down under the table, a nervous tick that happens involuntarily whenever I get anxious. My appetite was gone. The eggs I had just scooped into my mouth stuck to my tongue, pasty and artificial. My fork clattered onto my plate and the sausage that it had pierced rolled onto the floor. It suddenly was impertinent for me to rid my body of any food. I was suffocating, I was dying. I clasped for my glass of water with sudden urgency to wash down the eggs, but my glass was devoid of any moisture. The table of eight fell silent and stared at me as I squirmed in discomfort under the glares of judgement. Seven pairs of eyes bore into my soul. How rude of you they seemed to say. I can’t believe we are your friends. I haven’t heard anything so mean, and about your own sister too. The scum of the Earth, that’s what you are. We’re at a bible conference for Christ’s sake, be a little more Christianly. The wounds their eyes carved into me stung and I felt detached and rejected from them as their judgements flew around my head in dizzying spins. Luckily a cute boy walked into the room, caught their attention, and it suddenly became very important that they were laughing at the most hilarious joke. Their eyes fell and I was forgotten, allowed to question my inner being away from their critical eye. With empty glass in hand I stood hurriedly and crossed the room towards the water pitchers.

I was speechless. I was dumbfounded. I hadn’t said anything mean! I hadn’t meant that my sister was ugly, I actually thought my sister was rather pretty, just she is prettier with her glasses on. And it was the truth! Who knew someone could be so offended by hearing the truth. Besides, Danielle was my sister, everyone is mean to their sister. But Cammie’s reaction was so shocking, yes I had said it carelessly, filter-free, but I hadn’t expected the need to censor myself in front of my friends! Am I just making up excuses? They made me feel lower than dirt, but am I really a mean person? I thought.

Cold water streamed down my hand and I was shot back into focus. I slurped at the over flowing cup and walked back to the table. As I sat in the midst of these girls who’ve I’ve known for years, who judged me on something I never noticed about myself, something that was automatic for me, I decided to change. I didn’t want to be mean, I never realized my honesty was off-putting, so I began to filter myself. I left thoughts that might be considered “offensive” unsaid, I never offered my opinions in group discussions, and kept my lips tightly closed when the urge to call someone an idiot was exceptionally strong.

 I did it for years, and I hated myself for it. I hated that I sacrificed the validity of my thoughts and opinions to save someone else from discomfort. Hated that I hid who I was so someone else would like me. Because honestly I’m blunt. Brutally honest. Unfiltered, uncensored, unashamed. I tend to say things people usually wouldn’t. I’m opinionated and that shocks people. I give straight answers, I get to the point. I don’t lie to people. I’m shameless and I hurt people’s feelings, and I’m not sorry about it.