The first time I woke my mom up by reciting a full twenty minute episode of Blue's Clues, memorized with pinpoint accuracy, was the first time she really saw how strange of a child I was. My eclectic mannerisms, monotone delivery, advanced vocabulary relative to my age and obsessive interests in the bizarre led my doctor to diagnose me with Asperger's Syndrome. Years later, I'd find that this obsessive focus could hurt me, if I didn't temper it with truth, empathy and reason. In elementary school, I was bullied, as people are quick to shun what they don't understand, but I didn't blame them for it. Instead, I used my resourcefulness and intelligence to refine my mannerisms until they resembled my peers, while still keeping my individuality. My wit and charisma helped me to climb the social ladder, as I became the go-to for comedy in my…show more content… I felt happy in the contentment of others, and the growing minority of those who couldn't put a voice to their loneliness bothered me. As the year progressed and this minority grew larger, I found myself bottling up my distaste for those subtle bullies who suppressed the spirits of others, and bottling my resentment only fanned the flames of indignation. One night, after being asked by so many of my peers, the suppressed and the suppressive, why I was so consistently unhappy, I stayed up far past midnight, writing the most controversial piece I've written to this date. A sermon on individuality, this four page document encouraged people, through powerful metaphors, to strive past the subtle barriers set against their beliefs by others, and to display their passions for the world to see. I was so proud of this document, and so faithful in its potential, that I emailed it to all two hundred and twenty-five students in my class. I slept soundly, feeling victory over the
