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