“How long has it been?” a question no one asked because no one knew, not even my family. I do not trust my family but rather strangers instead. And to the question, it has been 4 years, since 7th grade, have I ever feel depressed and lonely. I was supposed to be a happy child, however, my dad was the person who made me question of my existence in this very world. On my sixth grade graduation day, in the car back home, my dad asked harshly, “Why didn’t you get a certificate of high achievements in math or science or literature? Why does it have to be some piece of leadership skill? Where will that ever bring you to? Look at your classmates. Those bright kids.” Upset, no? I later on lost my feelings for the father I used to love. My mother stayed quiet. They only saw school as a guarantee to take me to a wealthy future, but that is not my definition of school. I saw school as a place like home to children to be with one another, away from many adults and just stay in a fantasy building for a while, a place to learn and discover, a place to stand up from your mistakes and cheer on others. Too bad, I have totally forgot about how that felt about school. Growing up, school to me is a duty to fulfill in order to get to where I have been coerced to go. School is my nightmare prison, where I do not understand why I will not become someone’s close friend no matter how hard I try or what I do, no one will come to me. People will notice once I leave this world, they will see me and regret. But there is no use, we can never go back.