No one realizes the importance of caring for other people. Many think that if it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t matter. But what they don’t know is that the things that make little sense are often the brightest ideas out there. When I was younger I would stare out the window with my face pressed against the screen protectors guessing in my head which car would be my mom’s; and if it was I would run to open the door to greet her. I cared for her.
What I want people to think of me:
-great singer
-good writer
-nice
-pretty
-hard worker
-good -student
What I think of myself:
-ok singer
-determined
-has low self-esteem
-gets distracted easily
-hungry all the time
-hard worker
-good student
-non-consistent
-good writer
-romantic
-nice
-above average writer
What other people
think of me:
-slow
-gets distracted easily
-never on time
-boy crazy
-cool
-good singer
-pretty
-nice
-hard worker
-good writer
-natural poet
-romantic

I think sometimes it doesn’t matter what other people think you can do, it matters what you think you can do and the effort you put into what you want to do in life. I will always remember my first day of Kindergarden when I was bullied and called names and picked on. Some kinds would even throw rocks at me. Or that time when people called me weird. I always thought I was fat; and was reminded of it all the time from family, kids at school, and even my gym teacher says I was out of shape.

I couldn’t take it. The pressure to fit in was too much for me to bare. But I wasn’t going to give in. I still had a fighting chance of redeeming my self. I had..my voice.

I could sing. I could sing real well. When I was younger in pre-school I used to sing for all the cheerleaders during practice. They would always mention how cute I was. And then my “friends” say “yeah, what happened?” I was always an outcast, and the only thing that made me fit in, the only thing that made me shine, was my singing voice.

I would never sing in choir; not since elementary school when I was the loudest out of everyone who was singing and still didn’t get picked for a solo. And most of the songs were boring anyway. Up until about 8th grade.

I was walking through the hallways after school at about 5:15. There was an Ovation Choir Concert going on in the small gym. I was just walking by when I heard someone playing the piano. My mind automatically moves to music so I walked into the small gym to see who it was. And there I saw it. Joi and the some of the other choir girls standing around the piano, set on stage, singing to Bruno Mars’ “When I Was Your Man.” I stared at them briefly, then made my way almost out the door until Dreon, an old 8th grader, who is a freshman now, had come into the school with a smile on his face and he’s just..full of life. And for the first time, I sang with the choir! I played piano for the choir! I was one with the choir. I was..me.