Fights in middle school weren't like the movies. They were fast, messy, and left you bruised. I learned that early.
As the new kid in seventh grade, I wasn't a target, but I wasn't part of any group either. I stayed on the edges, unnoticed—until Ryan shoved me into a locker. I didn't say a word, just threw a punch. It landed square on his jaw, and from then on, things changed. People started to respect me—or at least fear me.
But fear didn't make me friends. By high school, I was known as the guy no one dared mess with. Everyone feared me, but I was always alone. My reputation kept people at a distance, and I hated it. I didn't need the respect; I wanted connections, something real.
Freshman year, I joined the boxing team, hoping it might keep me focused and away from trouble. It didn't. The adrenaline of fighting fueled something inside me—something I couldn't name. But I didn't stop there. I also joined the badminton and basketball teams, hoping they'd give me more than just competition. Yet, no matter how much I achieved, I remained the lone wolf.
One day, a senior named Mark shoved me in the hallway, taunting me. I didn't back down. I slammed him into a locker, the shock on his face saying it all. I wasn't the scared kid I used to be.
By senior year, I was the guy you didn't mess with, but I was still alone. When I walked onto a college campus, I knew things had to change. I was ready to start fresh, to find something more than just respect. I needed real connections, and I hoped this new chapter would finally give me that.