After we relocated, I was enrolled in a new school. Everything felt strange, like I had just been thrown into a different world. Back home, I thought I had already seen loneliness, but stepping into that new school showed me a new level of it.
I was in JSS1(Junior Secondary School One)when we left, but in America they called it 7th grade. Just the name alone made me feel lost. 7th grade sounded bigger, harder, like something I wasn't ready for. My chest was heavy, and my heart kept beating too fast, like it wanted to leave.
The school building was huge, with long hallways and classrooms lined up like mazes. I held my bag tighter, almost like it was the only thing keeping me safe. My legs were shaking, but I forced myself to keep walking.
I didn't know what was waiting for me inside that classroom. All I knew was that my middle school classmate, Anna, was already here. She came before me. She was the only familiar face I could hold onto in this strange place. But even knowing she was around didn't make my anxiety disappear, but made it worse.
Maybe it was because of how I looked. Back then, I was shapeless. My body didn't fit into the "pretty girl" box. I was short, just five feet tall, and had nothing special about my shape. My cheeks were round, my tummy soft from late-night snacks, and my body didn't look like the other girls who seemed to grow up faster than me. I felt small,like everyone could see right through me and laugh if they wanted.
When I finally reached the classroom, I stopped at the door. My palms were sweaty, and I couldn't even look up properly. The class had already started. The teacher was writing on the board, students were talking in whispers, and the noise inside made me feel even more out of place.
I froze there, staring at all of them from the doorway, my whole body burning with embarrassment. It was like a spotlight had been thrown on me, even though no one had actually turned around yet.
I wanted to disappear, but I knew that wasn't possible.
The teacher noticed me standing there and said, "Come in."
That was it. Two small words, but they felt like the hardest instruction I had ever been given. My legs were heavy, but I moved anyway, trying not to trip as I entered.
The class was occupied. Almost every seat was taken. I searched quickly, hoping to spot an empty one. My eyes scanned the room, and I finally found a small space near the back. It wasn't really a full seat—it was more like squeezing in where I barely fit. But I didn't care. I just wanted to sit down, hide, and stop being seen.
As I sat, I felt all eyes on me. Maybe it was just in my head, but it felt so real. I could hear whispers, little giggles, and the sound of my own heartbeat. My face was hot with shame. I kept my head down, pretending to look inside my bag, pretending to be busy with nothing.
Even though Anna was in the class, I didn't go to her. I didn't know how to. She had already made her friends before I came. She looked like she belonged, and I didn't.
I wanted to wave at her, or even smile, but the fear inside me was too loud. My mind was shouting, Don't embarrass yourself. Don't let them see how nervous you are.
So I stayed quiet.
The teacher went back to writing, the students went back to talking, and I just sat there in silence. My heart was breaking, but nobody noticed. To them, I was just another new face. To me, I was a girl drowning in her own fear.
That first day felt like forever. Every tick of the clock dragged me deeper into loneliness. Nobody spoke to me. Nobody asked me where I was from or what my name was. They just looked at me like I didn't matter.
And maybe that was the start of it all—the part of my life where I learned what it meant to be invisible in a room full of people.
At lunch, things didn't get better. The cafeteria was filled with noise and laughter, but none of it belonged to me. I stood with my tray, looking for where to sit, and the fear rushed back again. I saw Anna sitting with her new friends, laughing and talking like she had known them forever.
I wanted to go there, but something inside me whispered, Don't. You don't fit there.
So I walked to an empty corner and sat by myself. I picked at my food, not really hungry. I wasn't even ashamed of eating. My mind keeps saying am I eating right, is this how am supposed to it. I was so insecure. But the noise around me was loud, but inside me was silence.
That was how my days started to look—going to school, sitting alone, eating alone, leaving alone. And every time I told myself, Tomorrow will be better, but tomorrow came and nothing changed.
I tried to talk to people sometimes, but my voice would shake, or I would say the wrong thing. And when I saw the way they looked at me—like I was weird—I would shut down again.
I didn't know how to stand up for myself. I didn't know how to say no when people teased me or made jokes about me. I just laughed along like it didn't hurt, even though inside it did.
School became a place where I wore a mask every day. Trying to be perfect. On the outside, I was quiet and "fine." On the inside, I was breaking.
And the saddest part was, nobody saw it.
After that first day, I kept telling myself, It's fine, I'll get used to it. But the truth is, I never really did.
Every morning, I would wake up with a heavy chest, already dreading the school day before it even began. I would dress up in my uniform, look in the mirror, and see the same girl staring back at me—small, unsure, and trying too hard to be okay. I used to pinch my cheeks and say, "Smile, Mina. Just smile." But sometimes the smile wouldn't even come.
Walking into school was always the hardest part. The hallways were filled with people who seemed to know exactly who they were. Girls walked in groups, their laughter echoing like music, while boys shouted across the hall, bumping fists, full of confidence. Me? I kept my head down, pretending I had somewhere important to go, even when I didn't.
When I got to class, the same story repeated itself. The desks were already filled, everyone was chatting, and I would quietly slip into a corner. The teacher's voice would fill the room, but my mind was somewhere else. I was there, but not really there. I always felt like a shadow.
Anna was the only one I thought could save me from all that, but she slowly drifted away. She made her own friends and barely had time to talk to me. Whenever I tried to sit close to her, I noticed how her new friends looked at me—like I was tagging along where I didn't belong. So, I pulled back. I didn't want to be the burden friend, the one people just tolerated.
Lunchtime was the worst.
The cafeteria was too bright, too loud, too full of everything I didn't have. I would get my food and walk slowly, pretending like I was just searching for a spot, but inside, I was panicking. I hated the feeling of not having a place. I hated holding a tray while people stared. It made me feel exposed, like they could all see how unwanted I was.
Most days, I ended up sitting alone. Sometimes I pretended to be on my phone, even when there was nothing to check. Sometimes I just picked at my food until the bell rang.
I wished someone—anyone—would notice me. Ask me to join them. Call my name. But no one ever did.
It wasn't like I didn't try. A few times, I smiled at people or tried to say hello. But either they answered with short, awkward replies, or they ignored me completely. The courage I had built up would break into pieces, and I would shrink back into my shell again.
I didn't know how to say no when people teased me. Sometimes boys would call me "shorty" or laugh about my body. "You eat too much, don't you?" one of them said once. I laughed along, like it was funny, but that night, I cried into my pillow.
I let people take advantage of me because I didn't know how to stand for myself. If someone wanted my notes, I gave it. If someone asked me to carry their stuff, I carried it. I thought maybe if I kept pleasing people, they would finally like me. But all it did was make me feel smaller.
Every day felt the same. Wake up, go to school, feel invisible, come back home, repeat.
At home, things weren't easier either. With six siblings, I felt lost in the noise. My parents were there, but they were too busy to notice the sadness I carried. They thought I was fine because I never caused trouble. I was the "quiet" one, the "good" one. But inside, I was breaking more and more.
At night, I would stay up late, scrolling through my phone, watching videos of happy people, couples in love, girls my age who looked so confident. I would snack while watching, not because I was hungry, but because food was my comfort. It made me feel better for a while, until I looked at myself in the mirror and hated what I saw.
Still, I loved myself in a strange way. I told myself, Even if the world hates me, I won't hate me. That was the only thing I held onto, the only thing that kept me from falling apart completely.
But even with that, there were nights when I cried myself to sleep, wishing for a different life. A life where I wasn't always the lonely girl, the unwanted girl, the one who couldn't say no.
Sometimes I asked myself if love even existed. If friendship was real. Because all I knew was pain and rejection.
And yet, deep down, I still hoped. I still wished that maybe, one day, something or someone would prove me wrong.
I didn't know that this new school, this lonely season of my life, was only the beginning of a story I never expected.