I was about eight or nine years old when it began. I had just moved to England from Russia with my family. I wore glasses, was extremely thin and, being half russian and half Indian, I had quite dark-ish skin in comparison to the English people in my school.

My entire class would bully me for my appearance, except for this one boy. I remember they would comment on me being blind, anorexic and about how I was planning to attack the country with weapons just for being Russian.

My twin brother was also in the same class as me, he would do nothing to protect me but would instead help them hurt me. Of course he wasn't bullied, the majority of my bullies were female so they'd target me rather than a boy.

There were many occasions when one incredibly mean girl would grab my glasses, break them, and throw them back at me. I had to replace my glasses about three times in one year.

This wasn't the worst part though. When my brother told the entire class I had Tourette syndrome and OCD, they would then begin bullying me about that. They would mess up my perfect order of coloured pencils and deliberately draw outside the lines, all to irritate me. And it worked.

The one boy who wouldn't bully me became my friend and tried to comfort me, he stood up for me when I couldn't. He was my only friend. At school I would mask my emotions and come off as 'strong' and 'unaffected' by their words but I would then spend hours in the shower crying. I even contemplated self harm and suicide a few times. But I never attempted anything, because I was always optimistic and believed it would get better.

I tried to gain weight so I couldn't be labelled as the 'skinny girl'. I tried to lose my slight Russian accent for their English one so I wouldn't be called 'terrorist'. I lost all my trust in my brother who was once my best friend, and instead replaced him for a new best friend, the only boy who would help.

My parents didn't find out about the bullying and the teachers never knew, it was me against a class of thirty students, I was weak. My brother acted normal outside of school, as if we were still the best friends we once were. But ever since those dark days, we were never the same.

I once asked him why he would always lie and hurt me at school, and he explained that 'it was just a joke' and how 'i shouldn't take it seriously', even going so far as to say that I was just an easy target because he knows I'm strong and wouldn't take these words to heart. That was a lie.

Then came the last year of primary school. The bullying continued, my brother still feeding rumours and lies, that one boy being the only shoulder to cry on and I was no longer holding a strong exterior because I was breaking inside. The teachers and my parents remained oblivious, even to this day, seven years later, my parents never found out about my brother or classmates hurting me.

The only person who knew about my pain was the boy who would help. He was the only one who knew that I was weaker than most thought.

During the last year though, I got sick of it. I stood up for myself rather than relying on the boy and I began defending my race and appearance. I didn't bother changing my weight or trying to stop my OCD from affecting my life. I just became myself. I didn't hide anything and, as the snarky person I am, began yelling at everyone who would even dare hurt me. Of course, this didn't work and the bullying continued, but it lessened slightly. Though my brother was still inflicting pain on me at school and acting normal at home. But that didn't matter because I was going to be able to finally leave this hell for a new beginning at secondary school. And so I held my head high and dragged through the last, long months of school, ignoring my bullies who had somehow not yet lost interest, but had not become meaner either.

Now, seven years later and fifteen years old, at an all girls school, I am happy for being myself. I'm still not quite the same as I once was. I'm no longer the optimistic girl who didn't care what people thought, even now, as everyone around me has matured I still feel self-conscious. I am not judged or bullied and have now gained a British accent in place of my old, Russian one. Everyone at my new school understands my OCD and Tourette syndrome and accepts me for me. I'm no longer so close with my brother, we're more just people who live under the same roof and share the same parents, rather than siblings.

I'm still best friends with the boy who helped me through the pain, and he studies at the boys school across from me. He's the only person I trust, the only person who knows that I'm not as strong as people think, and that I cry while reading sad books or while watching The Lion King.

And I guess that I've now grown to accept me for who i am. I accept that I'm thinner than most, I accept that I cry at hurtful words and have emotions. I accept that I wear men's shoes even though I'm a woman. I accept that I'm not considered completely normal in today's society, but I'd rather be unique and abnormal than be normal and similar to everyone else. I'd rather be accepting of who I am than to be judging others by their appearance and hurting in the process. Because what is normal, if it means you're just the same as everyone else? Normal's boring, and I'd rather be different. I'd rather be who I am, because no one else will ever be the same as me.