Life Is Full of Fake People and Everyone Is Not Being Real

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"Life is full of Fake People, and everyone is not being real" My classmates and I were assigned by our professor to write an essay about a certain topic entitled "Life is full of Fake People, and everyone is not being real." A lot of ideas were playing inside my head but I don’t know how to commence. I remember instantly my experience about fake friends; I can pretty much say that I grew up with a bunch of fake people. I have so many in my community and it isn't even funny. Not to mention the friends that I’ve had growing up over the years. I want to tell a tale of a so called "best friend" I had growing up. At the end of fifth grade I had made a few friends, but this one guy that was with us kept staring at me. He didn't speak often,…show more content…
"You’re my friend, so you better not try and steal my girl." WTF? I was so fed up with him, yet I couldn't get rid of him. He would knock on my door every morning like nothing happened. He would follow me or try to catch me going somewhere to follow me, plus we rode the same bus when school came back in since we moved schools. I couldn't get away from him. I felt trapped, because If I didn't keep an eye on him, guys would be at my door ready to beat my *** everyday. No joke I would say that he had a team of six guys including himself at my door ready to fight me about five times in all. He admitted to starting the rumors every time. When I asked him why she would say " ooh it’s the past let it go. I also remembered that If a guy did him wrong or got mad at him he would get mad at me calling me a stupid ***** and that he wanted to beat my ***. It was as everything that made him angry was pointed at me and it was. Some guys who clearly didn’t like me would get him mad, just for it to fall back on me. This boy even had his brothers believing I was the fake and crazy one. He told them I treated him wrong and used him. His brothers would be mean to me and cuss me out and I didn’t even know why. I cried a few times myself wondering why he was so evil. The last time I saw him was in the third year of high school and I promised myself I would never speak to him again once I moved and I never did.

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