BULLIED

Story 110

I remember the bullying starting as well as I remember it ending; I don't really. It's funny, because both events occurred when I moved schools.

In fifth grade, I moved from a different state due to my soon-to-be stepfather's job. I was already different than all the kids who had known each other for the past five years, and I could sense it. Along with being new, I was a year younger than everyone else, so while the rest of my class were turning ten or were already ten, I'd be turning nine the beginning of that school year.

One girl talked to me; she came bounding up and said, very energetically, "Hi! Wanna be best friends?" And we have been ever since. But she was like me, no one talked to her unless they had to, a lot of people made fun of her to her face, and everyone made fun of her behind her back. And I suppose it was okay, but it was a very big change going from being part of what felt like a family back at my old school to whatever this was.

The first event that I remember is so stupid it's almost laughable, but at the time, it made me so insecure that I stopped even trying to talk to my classmates (a mistake on my part). I was standing at the back of the line to leave school, like I always did, and for some reason this one boy just turned around and said "What're you doing here? This is where the cool kids stand."

The 'cool kids'. It's such a dumb phrase honestly, because what does that even mean? Nothing, when you break it down. Nothing at all.

I wasn't shoved around or beat up (not yet), but I was ignored. But in fifth grade I was paired with this boy so he could help me with math homework, and he was as quiet as I was then. We hung out outside of school because my mum was insistent, then my best friend invited him to sit with us at lunch and recess. And the three of us became inseparable, and he became family to me. Unfortunately, we were just a band of outcasts, and it stayed that way for the next four years.

In sixth grade I didn't have my friends in my class, and I never got to see them in school, so I was practically mute.

In eight grade I nearly got pushed down the stairs by one boy, and then flicked on the head every time he passed me in math (I sat in the back of the room and he went to the bathroom a lot). One time I was raising my hand when he came back, and he just went and slammed me down against the desk. My teacher had been about to call on me, she saw. But instead of doing something she transferred me to a different class, swapping it with history, which was the only place I saw one of my other friends.

In history after that, my teacher would always pick on me for being alone, sitting alone, and doing group projects alone. I loved the class, but I always felt so uncomfortable when he'd say things like "You guys can work on this with partners, or you can be a lone wolf".

I was lucky enough to go to a selective high school where most of those kids didn't get into after that. I was accepted into the 'cool crowd' freshman year, but sophomore year I learned something about myself: I'm bisexual (more gay than anything else). I stopped being part of that crowd, though I still talked to them, and school life was pretty good. But other parts of my life got worse. My girlfriend at the time, who I'd considered a best friend before, started to cut herself and said that it was all my fault, and that she'd 'forgotten we were together' (I still don't care to know what that implies). I don't talk to her anymore, but for several months I felt like I was the worst person to ever walk on this planet, even if I never actually did anything wrong. My mum started getting angry with me no matter what I did, I was always told I was horrible and awful, selfish, making things up all the time. That I was bisexual for attention.

My mum hated the way I dressed, walked, talked, made fun of my two best friends who I'd had for years just because. I found out I was depressed and had to get pills for it, but she didn't seem to understand that they wouldn't just fix everything, and she got ma whenever I wasn't happy. I love her, but no matter what I did I felt horrible about myself because of her. I'd already been a cutter before (hence why I simply couldn't help my girlfriend when she was doing it), since eighth grade, but I found out how to go deeper and some of the scars I made from that time I don't think will ever go away. And I hate myself every time I see one of them.

My best friend, the guy one, we have a plan though. We're going to move in together somewhere far from home at the end of this year (we're seniors now), and we'll start out lives over how we want. This time next year I have no clue where I'll be, but I'm very excited for it. Point is, there's always a way to get out of the bullying, always. Sometimes you might have to wait for a while, but your escape will come. Life comes around eventually.