The pit of my stomach squeezed tighter and tighter. Oh how can this be possible? I thought. My mouth seemed to get dry, adding on to my already undesirable, distressed face. My eyes frantically searched for any bit of comfort. But, deep down, I knew that there is no comfort. The only form of comfort was miles away. A place I couldn’t legally reach, at least not now anyway. I feel miserable. Sitting there in the position opposite of a power pose only made things worse, raising my cortisol levels (not that I knew any of that anyway). Is this real? What is this horrible feeling?
How angry I felt at the world. I am only a five-year old, and everyone is so ignorant of my situation. They have no idea how perplexed and helpless I feel. But, it
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It was the first day of Kindergarten, and I’m going to be put into uncomfortable situations where people talk to me in English. I wiped my stiff hands on my pink floral shirt
causing it to dampen due to the amount of sweat that was forming. I had the urge to turn around and run home. Instead, my body just kept going. What am I going to do? My emotions were so mixed together that I couldn’t think straight. It became clear that there is no other option than to just enter the classroom and see what occurs from there.
Laughter booms through my ears as I sit there unsure of what to say. I can just feel my chubby cheeks turning vermillion. I have no idea how I maintained somewhat still as I felt like screaming and pulling my thick hair out. It’s as if “stupid” was written in bold red letters across my damp forehead. From my vantage point, I can see the classroom full of people staring at me with mixed expressions. Some were amused, others were irritated, and a few expressed pity. I once again sat there on the orange tile clueless of what my teacher was asking me. My jumbled up thoughts blocked out any information of the story my teacher, Mrs. Bird, was telling. Her big, curly hair reminds me of my