I am Native American, as you can probably figure out from my name.  Don't mind it at all, but I wish people would stop making fun of me; I can't help that I was born a Native!!  I'm a person too, just like anybody else!

Until this year, I went to the school here on the rez, but now I am going to a non-Indian school here in Pierre.  I hate it.  The kids tease me, and they treat me like an outsider.  Even the non-white kids (Mexicans, Vietnamese/Orientals, or Arabs) give me nothing but grief.  Doesn't help that I am short, painfully skinny with big hands and feet, wear ugly, black rimmed glasses that make my eyes look like pop eyes, or have asthma.  I'm allergic to just about everything under the sun.  Seems I'm always sneezing or coughing or having to go to the emergency room for another one of my asthma atttacks!

I don't have any friends.  I'm about as unpopular as they come. 

The kids at my new school call me "Spitwad" or "Injun", or worse, "Savage" and "Redskin".  If there's anything that I hate most of all, it's when kids call me "Savage" or "Redskin".  I get so angry at them I want to hurt them or even kill them, if I were strong (or brave enough)!

When I grow up (that is, if I manage to survive high school at my new school), I would like to become one of two things: a.)  a professional writer and write stories, or b.) an artist.  Seems I am always writing or drawing.  Writing and/or drawing is my favorite thing to do.  I also love to play on the computer, play video games, or read.  I'm very booksmart, a regular bookworm.  I might not look like much on the surface, but I am gigundo smart!!

When I go to school, I have to have my dad or older brother go with me to keep me from getting beat up.  The last time I got beat up (about two months ago), I had two black eyes, and bruises and welts from fists being slammed into my body.  I hurt for over two weeks.  It was horrible!!

Guess who beat me up:  my (former) best friend, Rocky Standing On His Horse, because he said I took his girl, Amalia, when all I was doing was talking to her!  Now he won't look at me; if he does see me, he's always threatening to beat me up some more, and the next time he does, he's going to do his best to put me into Intensive Care at the local Indian hospital.

This was at the Indian school I was going to.  I was in the eighth grade.  This was right before school let out for summer vacation.

Now I have nobody, and if you ask me, I kinda prefer it that way.  That way, nobody can pile their shit on me and treat me like a goddamn idiot!  I just wish I could go back to my former school; I HATE being the school's newest peon!!

Well, that's my story.  I will write in here again.  You haven't heard the last from me, Curlybear!  Take care and bye for now!

~Joe Curlybear Spirit.

*To be continued.*