I met them almost four years ago. Became friends with them… or did I? I never really knew. Some days I felt like an outcast, some days like a charity case. I never knew why, but that group as an entirety… I never felt like I was really part of it. Or perhaps I do know why. But let’s start at the beginning. It was a hot summer day, first day of uni. I was a shy girl who just moved to the big city. A whole new life was beginning. I met them at the commencement speech. People transferred from other uni programs, a few years my senior. I started hanging out with them because frankly, that’s what you do on first days of school. Not knowing who you’re dealing with makes you choose the first ones that comes to you, and people tend to stay in groups. Or at least I thought I did.

People in my class tend to hang out together because we have every single class in common. So, upside is that friends were made quickly, and downside is that you can expect to see the same faces for the many years to come, some of which might not be friendly figures.

Bottom line, I hanged out with people I barely knew, and a few days later we were celebrating someone’s birthday. 8 people came that day. Of this day, only 3 remain. Strangers, friends, (ennemies?), strangers. That’s life. I remained a long time among those people though. Long enough to write a book about it. And if I had to choose a title for it, I would go along the lines of bully or outcast. Because really, how do you define bullying? They never physically attacked me, but most of times I was shut down. Nobody would actually listen to what I had to say. If I had to bend down to tie my shoelaces, they would just stroll along and nobody would wait for me. But there again, they would invite me to hang out, and the girls in that group acted nice towards me, though amongst the group they too started acting like the boys and act as if I was invisible. That weird situation lasted for a year . By second year and with five people left in that group, they kind of expected me to tag along. I never chose the restaurants we would eat out to, but they actually would beg me to come, and say that it’ll be fun. I didn’t have any other close friend in class. Except one. I hanged out more and more with that person, but by the beginning of third year she was gone. I went back to where I came from, since I didn’t want to be all alone. That’s when I heard that one of the boys of that group started spreading rumors bout me.

It all started with a coat I bought while in second year. The kind that lasts a decade and costs you an arm. He started telling everyone my family was rich. I told him off because it wasn’t true. And he called me faker. Little did I know there was a lot more going on in my back, but them keep laughing at some of my reactions and trying to find phrases that triggered me did show signs.