[ WP ] You wake up on exact date of your 5th birth date in your 5 year old body , with your current memory .

I stared down at my sister sleeping in the bottom bunk. What the hell was this? I knew dreams, this was n't a dream. 
 My family was pretty poor, so this bunk bed was actually two old beds and wood that my father had made into bunks. It swayed when I climbed down it. 
 I dressed in my clothes, all either over-sized so that I'd grow into them, or fitting but faded with age. My shoes were over-sized too, and I knew I'd be wearing them until they pinched my toes for several months and my discomfort overcame my guilt at asking for new things. 
 I ran a brush through my short hair. Easier to maintain, uses less shampoo and water. My mother cut it herself. Everyone mistook me for a boy, but I never cared about that. 
 
 I had school today, I remembered. I could do well with the knowledge I had, and the understanding of what was on the line. Excel and skip a grade or two. Get into a better high school. Get a scholarship and go to university, get higher out of this cycle of poverty. 
 I smiled at my mother as she walked in to wake us up before she left for work at 7am. It was earlier than necessary but an extra alarm clock for us children was not exactly a financial priority. 
 `` Good morning!'' I said and hugged her. 
 `` You're up early! Could n't sleep or just excited about your birthday?'' 
 `` Sara was mumbling in her sleep, woke me up'' I lied, looking at my sister, who had pulled the blankets over her head. 
 `` Well, I'm off to work, you two have a great day.'' She said, giving me one last squeeze. 
 
 I was walking to school at 7:20 am. School started at 9 but I always made sure I was out of the house before my dad woke up. He could drive me to school, but I'd rather walk the 40 minutes and then read than deal with him in the morning. 
 I was excited for school today. I was going to show them things they were n't expecting. When we started, I was trying to pay attention but found it was harder than I expected. Maybe it was because it was so easy that it bored me. 
 Then we were told to sit down and practice writing out the alphabet. Capitals and lowercase printed letter. Piece of cake. 
 I took my pencil out. It seemed massive in my 5-year-old hand. I started writing but it was n't working like I wanted. My hands did n't listen to me properly, the lines were shaky and the circle of the `` a'' was malformed. I did n't have the motor skills to control my hand yet. I would need to practice. 
 
 I'd reached the letter `` g'' and I was frustrated. My hand was getting stiff. It was like I'd been in an accident and was undergoing physical therapy, repeating a basic motor skill over and over to reform the muscles and strengthen the tendons. 
 I almost lost my temper and started doing a little controlled breathing. At least that I could still do. 
 The teacher saw I had stopped and came over. `` Rachel, are you having any problems?'' 
 I tried to make my observation about physical therapy, but the words would n't come out. The concepts were there, but my 5-year-old vocabulary was n't there to convey them. 
 `` It's like... my hand wo n't listen to me... it's hard.'' I gave in. `` My hand's just sore.'' 
 My teacher patted my arm. `` Flex it a little,'' she said, demonstrating, `` and keep trying.'' 
 I got to `` r'' before we were done with that module. We moved on to basic maths, and for some reason it took me time to add and subtract things. Things I was so used to doing that I did them at a snap before, they just were n't automatic anymore. 
 
 It was lunch time so I ate the sandwiches my mum had made me, and thought. What was going on? If I had come back but could n't do anything, what was the point? Why was I here? Why was I doing this over again if I could n't change it? Was this even real? Was I crazy? I really hoped I was n't. It ran in the family, or at least I think it did. That was information I'd learn in the `` future''. 
 I kept chewing. Normally I would have taken the lettuce out of my sandwich, but I'd decided at least that was a positive change I was in control of. The lettuce tasted very bitter to me though. I could see why I had always thrown it away back then. I'd also managed my temper better by doing the breathing exercises. At least that was an improvement. 
 
 I went to throw the plastic wrap away when I saw some of some other kids picking on a boy. I'd been picked on too, because of my stupid clothes and haircut, and my temper. Things I could n't control. And no-one had cared. I always figured it was everybody for themselves in this world. I always felt crushingly alone as a child. 
 I had already walked up to the kids and I told them to go to go find something better to do. 
 They laughed and asked `` Are you nuts? Or just stupid?'' 
 `` No, you guys're just being dicks.'' They stared in surprise at my language. `` You're this bored? Go find something to do that is n't being an asshole.'' 
 I was surprised myself when I said `` asshole'', but I guess I already knew that word at 5. 
 They wavered. `` It's none of your business.'' said one kid. `` Go away or you'll be sorry.'' 
 `` Yeah.'' said a girl. `` Who are you anyway? You look like a boy and your clothes are too big.'' 
 I laughed. `` At least I'm good. Imagine your parents heard all this. They'd be so ashamed of you.'' 
 Some of the kids looked nervous. 
 `` I'm not scared of any of you.'' I said. `` You're too dumb to make me sad and you're too weak to hurt me real bad. Just go away.'' 
 Most of them just looked at eachother, and the one girl came forward and tried to push me. I back-handed her across the face as hard as I could. She held her face and started crying. 
 I looked at them. `` Oh my god, just go away!'' I exclaimed. 
 They took the girl and withdrew, her crying giving them a good excuse to walk off and take care of her. 
 
 This was n't exactly the way I thought I'd go about this. But the only thing I seem to have kept from my adult experiences is the emotional maturity and the long-term perspective that came with the years. It is n't nothing. I'm still going to make better choices. I'm going to be calmer and more patient. I'm going to stand up for myself. I'm a child but I'm not a scared one anymore.
