intro

There I was all snug in my bed, about the only place I actually felt secure and at peace. Suddenly I hear my alarm ringing, 6:30 is the time everyday of the week where I go from even being close to being happy, to completely depressed. I hate it, I hate school so much the other kids are horrible. So I get up still half asleep and slip my feet into my snug fluffy slippers, as I go down the hallway dragging my feet across the ground I see in the corner of my eye my dog Buggles, he’s probably the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. I step out the door into the kitchen and all of a sudden I get this big fat kiss from mother, arhh I hate it when she does so. Though I know she is just doing it to at least try and cheer me up yet it still never works. So I sit down slowly eating my breakfast, preparing myself for the torturing day ahead.  As I am walking to the bus stop I see groups of children on the other side of the road having fun and enjoying each other’s company. As they threw pinecones at signs, silly and stupid yet still from a distance looked so much fun. I wish so much I could have that much fun, or at least have a friend. Finally the bus arrived as I hoped on, I walked down the aisle hoping there would be a seat available. There were plenty of seats though all the other kids put their bags next to them or shuffled to the one side avoiding me, I felt so alienated, I felt like I had no identity or purpose in life.  Eventually the humiliating bus ride was over, though now I had to face school. Westfield High, the biggest hole south of the river. As I approach my locker I can see smelly yoghurt smeared all over, though I don’t even bother cleaning it up, will just happen again in the near future. I grab my books; thankfully they are not ruined yet and head off to home room. As I am sitting at the very front of the classroom whilst the other kids were launching spit balls and paper wasps towards my head, finally Miss Devondale walked into the room. As she greeted us she was explaining how this week was multi-cultural week suddenly I sunk even lower in my chair. I heard people laughing and one kid Joseph Mac called me Blacky Chan, suddenly the laughing got harder. One day I am going to crack and that Joseph Mac kid, he’s not going to have a face. I hate my life, why, why could I not be white?  Later in the day I was walking down the hall way, I thought to myself why it I never fight back is; after all I am a tae kwon do black belt. Randomly another guy just walked past me and dug his shoulder into my ribs, sure it hurt but next time I shall be prepared. He won’t know what hit him.