My Bulling Story:
In 8th grade, I dreaded waking up in the morning and joining
reality. I would never want to get out of bed in the
morning. I felt as if I weren't presentable to the
world. My clothes were wrinkled, my hair was a mess, my
eyes were droopy. You better believe they used it
against me. But looking nice was the last thing on my
mind. I was bullied day and night, online and in person,
verbally and mentally. It felt like it was me against
the world because I thought that there was no one on my
side. After a really bad day, I would lose my will to
live. To fight another day in that hell called my
life. I took a razor to my arm and cut. Watching in
fascination as blood ran down my arms, on my hand, to my
fingers to drip off their tips. At first I tried
to hide my scars. But then I didn't. No one
noticed. Because no one cared. I would always
wonder if people would care if I died. My grades were at an
all time low, but my morals were even lower. I was
just trying to make it through the day. I
remember every insult that came out of their mouths. I
wish those words were gone. Erased from my brain.
Every one of their twisted words managed to stay burned into my
mind. Every snicker, every dirty look, every nasty word,
holds a special place in my mind. It's not a happy
place. The place is dark, unhappy and miserable. It
is kept under lock and key. You can never have your
guard up all the time, you can never pretend you're always
strong, you can never always pretend that your life isn't
crumbling around you. You can never fake true
happiness. It's like walking on broken glass.
After awhile, you break down. You lose it. Just like I
did. I cried and cried thinking "Where is my fairy
godmother?" Then just like that, all my tears were
gone. There were none left. I tried to cry
more. But nothing came out. I learned something after
that. Crying only helps you feel better in that
moment. Every night I would pray to God, asking him to take
me back in time, to the days where I was happy.I would always
wake up in the same miserable life. Then back to
school. When I walked down the hallway, it was always
a battle with my tormentors. People I barely knew would
yell mean things to me, so everyone could hear. An
audience. Perfect for them. Horrible for me. I would
have been preferred to be humiliated in private.
Everytime it happened, I would want to die. I
would contemplate killing myself. Once I called the suicide
htoline, I got scared and hung up. I never knew why I did
that. No one would ever care how miserable I REALLY
was. Some days I would force myself to be sick,
literally make myself puke, just to miss school for one more
day. I hated looking in the mirror. I hated what I
saw. I hated the sound of my own voice! After being
called "ugly" for so long, I started to believe that I
was. I never experienced a group of people trying so hard
to be so mean. To a girl. A girl like me. I can
go on and on about how horrible my life was in 8th grade or how
horrible my bullying experience was so bad that I almost switched
schools. But I didn't. I'm going to tell you
that I'm glad that I didn't run, how I'm glad I
didn't leave. Because it's over now. I stood
my ground until the end. I might have gotten pushed over
more than a couple of times, but I'm still here. While
the memories will be in my mind forever, I am truely a
stronger person. I made it out from my hell. ANd I
made it out on top. So if anybody needs someone to go to when you
feel like nobody else will be there, I got your back. If I
can get through it, then we could get trough it together. Format
by Urbanlayoutsxoxo