I am twelve years old, and even more insecure than normal for a girl of this age. This is saying a lot, since girls of twelve are almost never particularly secure. I am acutely, painfully aware that I am different from many of my peers, though I do not know how yet. I blame this on my appearance, though in the back of my mind I know that cannot be the only reason. I am a chubby child still, caught in between baby fat and breasts. It is an uncomfortable position. I am both very mature and very immature, though perhaps I do not recognize this.

I have few friends, and value them. What I do not realize is that they do not really like me. Perhaps I know this, and do not want to believe it. Yes, that is closer to the truth.

School is a misery, though class is not. I am good at all things academic, and this fills me with pride and the desire to learn more and more. i read everything, constantly. My comprehension soars, while my social skills remain stunted. I bury myself in fiction to compensate for the lack. It almost fills the hole in my heart, almost. I still long for human touch outside of my family members. I wonder constantly if there is something "wrong" with me.

There is a boy who calls himself my friend. He is handsome enough for a twelve year old, though of course to me he is the most beautiful thing in the world. Someone notices, someone cares. I rejoice. We spend time together, and in the way of adolescence, I develop a crush for him. I think myself in love, I hope that I am. From what I have read, true love always prevails. I am an idealist, and a romantic.

One day, this boy pulls me aside and kisses me. I am ecstatic. I cannot think, cannot breathe. Never have I enjoyed so wonderful a feeling. Never before have I ever felt anything like it. It was a perfect first kiss. My lips burn for the rest of the day.

The next day, one of his friends tells him that I am weird, calls me fat and ugly.