“Move it, you big cow,” the little boy behind me demanded. Most onlookers would have noticed that the speaker wasn't really in a position to criticize a classmate's weight because he wasn't skinny at all, but no one would dare challenge the class bully. “Shut up, David!” I exclaimed, raising my voice to the high pitch only a nine-year-old can achieve, my clenched fists shaking. A barrage of superbly foul words came out of his mouth, but verbal assault was nothing new to me. Over the previous months, David had made sure I had a good background in dealing with abuse. Almost every day at recess since the start of my fourth grade, and on every other occasion as well, David would strut up to me, flanked by two or three of his friends, to call me a variety of hurtful names. Some of the most common insults included “ugly” and “stupid,” neither of which I now realize were true. Despite my outward appearance of calm and endurance, David's comments pierced my subconscious like the long, thick needle of a syringe. full of insecurities. I was a kid who took everything seriously, whether it was a math test or a silly joke. The wounds he wrought in my mind and in my self-confidence oozed with poisonous anxiety. I became angry and withdrew myself, a frightened animal licking its wounds, staring at innocent bystanders as if they had inflicted wounds on it. Every time David made an abrasive comment, every time one of his friends called me a rude name, I became more and more suspicious of my peers and more and more suspicious of what they said to me, always looking for underlying insults in their words. I lashed out at people who didn't deserve it, hissing like an angry cat and spitting awkward insults...... middle of paper...... He was just a stupid boy trying to make me react, so the logical choice was simply not to visibly react. My strength of will overcame the irrationality of my emotions and I overcame the impulses that threatened to take over. up for days until, finally, David got tired of taunting me and left me alone. Today I wonder how his immature antics affected me so much, but I realize that I was a very different person then than I am now. When my feelings were hurt, I reacted without thinking, and that's what triggered my childhood anxiety about social situations, but without those ordeals and the people who put me through difficult times, I wouldn't have not the inner peace, emotional security and self-confidence that I have today.