Personal Narrative: My Life In Middle School

Today was the day. Packed to the point of bursting open with new notebooks, folders, pens, pencils, and textbooks, he readied me for school. Instead of bouncing around as rambunctious young boys do, he trudged slowly in a peculiar meter of half-steps toward the doorway. He was living a new life in a new school that was filled with people who might as well have been aliens to him. He carried me everywhere, when he sat alone in the corner too afraid to speak with his new peers, when he needed a book to read at recess because he wasn’t invited to play with the others, when he clutched me as a pillow on the bus and wept quietly because he was confused, frustrated, and alone. He didn’t know what to do and blamed himself for the perceived failings he saw all around him; quickly, he erected mental walls all around himself that would put Gibraltar to shame.F
Upon entering middle school I had new tools to carry: allen wrenches, screwdrivers, and sketchbooks; all the equipment necessary to be a great member of the robotics team. I sat on the bleachers to watch as he won his first competition. Soon after entering high school I was stripped of my tools, as he wallowed in sorrow at being rejected by the high school team. I watched as he retreated back to the fortress within his mind, but before he sealed the gates once more, he decided he would not accept this again. He had been dealt a bad hand by the fates but he decided not to play their game. He cast off the fear he held of his peers and seized his