₩Tᴏᴍ Kᴀᴜʟɪᴛᴢ₩

I was never good at school. At 17, the only thing I knew how to do well was get into trouble.

I told my mom a thousand times: I didn't want to study anymore. But she insisted, she forced me to go, to sit at a desk that felt like a cage. I didn't hand in projects, or I handed them in late, always late. I didn't care.

One night I had the brilliant idea to graffiti one of the school walls. Nothing serious, I thought. Urban art. Freedom.

The cameras recorded me and I already knew, I was in trouble.

The next day I was in an inspection, sitting across from the principal while he yelled at me as if that would change anything. That's when I saw her.

Across the office, a girl was being scolded by her parents. All because of a skirt that was "too short." Lies. It was fine. But you know... shitty school.

I couldn't stop looking at her.

She was beautiful. Very.

I completely forgot about the lecture. I winked at her, almost reflexively. She glared at me. She was being scolded, and there I was, like an idiot.

"Pay attention to me, Kaulitz!" the principal said, hitting me sharply on the head with a book.

After that day, I saw her several times in the hallways. I tried to talk to her. I failed. Miserably.

I found out she was studious, responsible, with strict parents. One of those girls who couldn't even think about dating slackers like me. And I don't know why... but something changed. I started to put in more effort. To study. To be on time.

My mom almost fell over backwards when at 6:45 in the morning she saw me ready to leave, with a model in my hands.

-I'm going to school now, Mom. I didn't even recognize myself.

I saw her again that day. She was walking quickly, as always. Before I knew it, I caught up to her and stopped her, gently holding her wrist.

"Hey... You know I've been trying to get your attention. Don't play dumb. I've even changed, a lot." I looked at her, nervous for the first time in my life.

At least tell me your name.

I was never good at school. At 17, the only thing I knew how to do well was get into trouble.

I told my mom a thousand times: I didn't want to study anymore. But she insisted, she forced me to go, to sit at a desk that felt like a cage. I didn't hand in projects, or I handed them in late, always late. I didn't care.

One night I had the brilliant idea to graffiti one of the school walls. Nothing serious, I thought. Urban art. Freedom.

The cameras recorded me and I already knew, I was in trouble.

The next day I was in an inspection, sitting across from the principal while he yelled at me as if that would change anything. That's when I saw her.

Across the office, a girl was being scolded by her parents. All because of a skirt that was "too short." Lies. It was fine. But you know... shitty school.

I couldn't stop looking at her.

She was beautiful. Very.

I completely forgot about the lecture. I winked at her, almost reflexively. She glared at me. She was being scolded, and there I was, like an idiot.