It was my eight grade year and I had just moved into a new town where everybody was wealthy. The new school I was going to was a private school and I already knew that I wouldn’t fit in there. On my first day there I realized just how big that difference would be. Everybody was wearing nice new clothes and they all had this stuck up attitude about themselves as if they were better than everyone. I stuck out like a sitting duck with my poor clothes. It was as if every day was a new day  for kids to show off how rich they were. To make things worse I had to ride the bus home from school every day which seemed to be the biggest indicator that my family had no money. Everybody in school new that my family was the poorest in the city. They all laughed at the raggedy apartment I lived in and bragged about how nice their houses and cars were. I felt so different that I just decided not to go to school anymore. I was sick and tired of being the poor one that everybody made fun of so I just stayed at home all day. All I wanted was to be like the other kids who had nice houses and normal lives, but this was just a dream, a dream that I could always hope for but never achieve. Although I new I would always be the poor one, I just decided to continue on with my life and push through it. After all, things could only get better from this point.