Koch Avenue

When I was seven years old my family moved to a small house on Koch Avenue. The first couple of years we lived there it was fine. We got along with our neighbors and I made a few friends with some kids my age who lived down the street. About two years after moving there I was introduced to a new group of people. That group of people continued to make my life hell until we finally moved six years later.

After meeting the new group of older kids who had moved into the neighborhood, I was scared to do anything. Every time I tried to do something outside one of them would find me and I'd get beat up. During the school year it wasn't so bad because we went to different schools but the summer was another story. Eventually it got to the point where it didn't matter if I was locked inside my own house. Everyone in the neighborhood, including me, knew how to pick a lock. So, no matter what I did, they'd come in and beat me up.

Even though I was beat up by several people, there was one girl who I thought was absolutely crazy. She lived two houses down from me and beat me up sometimes more than once a week. She tried to drown me, pushed me down stairs multiple times, knocked a tooth out, and even tried to stab me a few times. I never won a fight. Sometimes I'd try to fight her back but she always won because she was a few years older. However, finally, just before we moved away I got my revenge and busted her nose and lip good and she started to get the idea to leave me alone.

Having to deal with the fear of walking in my own back yard or even being home started to bother me a lot. Somehow I always kept good grades though. I stayed close to the top of my class and never told any of my friends at school about my neighborhood. I never invited anyone over and rarely told them where I even lived. I didn't want anyone to know what I was dealing with. I wasn't lying about my life to make it appear better, I just left parts out. However, keeping it bottled up and having that huge secret broke me down and by the time I was in eighth grade I was pretty depressed. Everyone I lived around on Koch repeatedly reminded me I was worthless and I had started to believe them. I didn't want anyone to catch on that I was depressed. So, instead of talking to someone I just lived by my own personal rule:

No matter what, don't forget to smile.