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My experience happened in third grade, Begnoche's class. One day I was walking to my class when some dude tripped me. Well, I fell down on the crumbly grey pavement. To my surprise, I landed on my backpack, and I landed looking up at the blue sky, feeling no pain, instead of looking down at a few splattery red drops of blood from my nose, mouth, face, ect, on the grey cement. I struggled to get to my feet, but my backpack was heavier, and stronger than I was, so as I struggled, the most I was doing was rolling around like a pig rolls in the gooey brown mud. I felt like a turtle on it's hard, round shell, flipped upside down like the ones in the murky water you see at the zoo, in the monkey's enclosure. I couldn't get up, no matter how much effort or work I put into it. Everyone was standing in line, laughing, like I was something at the carnival circus. I was exhausted, no one, not even my friends offered to help me. They all stood there, laughing. Feeling beads of sweat running down the side of my face, and tears rolling down my cheeks at the embarrassment, my teacher stepped out of the room, and saw me kicking my feet, laying on the grey sidewalk, struggling to get up. She must have thought I was joking around, the way she yelled at me. Yet I couldn't get up. It was so embarrassing. I was exasperated at everyone. 

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