Years passed, and nothing changed.
From elementary to high school, I was always the outcast. No one wanted to sit next to me.
During group projects, I was always chosen last.
On field trips, I was never invited.
“Son of the garbage man”—that’s all they ever called me.
Still, I never complained.
I didn’t fight back. I didn’t speak ill of anyone. I just kept studying.
While others spent their afternoons in internet cafés, I saved my coins to photocopy my notes.
While they showed off their new phones, I walked long distances to save on bus fare.
And every night, as my mother slept beside her sack of bottles, I whispered to myself:
“Someday, Mom… we’ll rise above this.”
