Dear Stephen, This has been a letter that I have been trying to find the words to write for a long time. I am 17 now and enrolled in the Toronto College of Art, I finally believe I am old enough to tell you as you are old enough to accept what I’ve been through. You are probably busy in California studying Astrophysics so I will try not to write you a novel. Anyways, to get to the point, while I was in elementary school at Queen Mary’s Public School, I was tormented by my so called “friends” Cordelia, Carol, and Grace, mainly Cordelia. I thought for tremendous amounts of time the reason why I was bullied and now know why, I was “different in some way” (Coloroso 1). Before we moved to Toronto I pictured what young girls were like, innocent, friendly, and caring. I remember thinking “I don’t think about what I might say to them if I actually meet some” (Atwood 32) because I figured everything would work out perfectly, but I was wrong. I do not know why I did not realize how vulnerable I was. Cordelia grew up with two older sisters so she knew how to act around girls while I grew up hanging out with you. Cordelia’s sisters Perdita and Miranda controlled and ridiculed Cordelia, and I think Cordelia needed someone to control as well, unfortunately that became me. I knew I was different because when I first met Carol at Queen Mary’s, I thought “Carol Campbell is a sissy” (Atwood 55) especially after she refused to pick up the “jars of lizards and ox eyeballs” (Atwood 55) at the Zoology building Dad works at. When I began hanging out with Cordelia, Carol, and Grace, I began to feel like “an imitation of a girl” (Atwood 57). I liked picking up things like ox eyeballs or examing worms, it did not gross me out. The games we played were new to me, so I did not know how to respond when we drew drawings and were supposed to say how bad each of ours were, even when I thought mine was good. It was all a game. Eventually, Cordelia and the other girls