> The new school didn't change anything.
The same old story followed me like a shadow I never chose.
Teacher stares.
That sick, slow gaze I'd come to recognize —
not because I wanted to —
but because I'd been forced to learn what it meant.
It was there again.
Even though I wore long skirts.
Even though my chest was flat.
Even though I had no curves to "blame."
Even though I was just a girl trying to learn.
---
> I started to hate myself more than anything else.
Not because I had done anything wrong.
But because I kept being made to feel like I had.
---
This school was different.
I was used to competition —
but this kind?
It drained me in ways exams never could.
---
I was dropped into Senior Four without preparation.
Thrown into a class full of pressure, expectations, and faces I didn't know.
And if I wanted to pass,
I had to do the thing I had always avoided:
> Come out of my shell.
So I tried.
I made friends.
But even that wasn't safe.
---
The girls?
They saw me as competition —
and not just for grades.
They watched the boys who looked at me.
Whispered.
Judged.
Made me feel like I was doing something wrong just by existing.
The boys?
They smiled too easily.
Got too close too quickly.
Offered help with their eyes already expecting something in return.
And me?
> I just wanted to survive.
To pass.
To leave.
---
I was overwhelmed.
Stressed.
Alone — even in a crowd.
And that's when the sleepless nights began.
Not once or twice.
Every. Single. Night.
---
> While others gained weight during COVID,
I lost mine.
Lost my appetite.
Lost my shape.
Lost the little softness I used to have — both on the outside and the inside.
---
> I was just a girl in a school uniform,
drowning in exams,
unwanted attention,
and a body I was taught to feel guilty for.
---
But still — I kept going.
Because that's what girls like me are always told to do.
> Don't speak.
Don't flinch.
Don't attract.
Don't complain.
Just pass.
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