PROMISES » #MeToo ✔️

a glimpse into the past // pt. 2

A/N: I need a nap after writing this. Sometimes I forget how exhausting it is to write about traumatic events until I sit down and actually start writing about it.
Sigh. Here's this. Goodnight.

I sigh heavily as I settle against the pillows I have stacked up against my headboard. I can't sleep, so what better to do than to write this stupid article about this stupid boy who ruined my stupid life.

            It's all stupid.

            But I'm writing it anyway.

I guess there's no real easy way to start this off, so we're just going to jump right into it.

            In life, I think, there are some things we desperately wish we could avoid. You might really wish you could avoid morning traffic, so you try leaving earlier and getting breakfast on the way to work to make up for leaving early. You might really—

"This is so unbelievably stupid," I grumble through clenched teeth, nearly slamming my laptop lid down in the process.

Why is this so forced and why does it have to sound so cliché and stupid?

I can't write this. There's no serious way I can write this for a magazine without seething about how stupid it is in every other sentence. I can't believe I even agreed to do this.

Take two? I guess? If this doesn't go any better I'm leaving and getting ice cream.

            In life, I think, there are things we can't really avoid. There are things we can't prevent and things we wish never would have happened. But the important thing is that you don't let what happened bring you down.

            Okay, take two is going well. I'm still getting ice cream.

            After returning to my laptop with a bowl of rocky road ice cream, I start writing again.

            Instead, you stand tall and you fight back because what others did to you does not define you as a human being.

            That is something I've been trying to learn.

            Should I go in and make this cliché? We're doing it anyway.

            My story of cyberbullying is one that is rather weird – but common, as I've learned. It started face to face, and then shifted to online harassment. It's a painfully long story, but I'm willing to share it with you.

            This is painful as hell to write. I nearly roll my eyes as I read back over the previous paragraph. Cliché sells, right?

            I want to start off by saying kids, and teenagers as well, are extremely impressionable. They are easily distracted. They are gullible. And they are fragile. All at the same time.

            When I was in fifth grade – I was 10/11 years old – I was in a class with a crowd I didn't exactly relate. I had one friend in the class, but I also had a bunch of kids surrounding me that were different than me. They were all in relationships, and – in hindsight – were the epitome of the 'wrong crowd' your parents warn you about.

            I felt so alone. The only person I truly related to or even remotely wanted to talk to was my teacher – but 'teacher's pet' wasn't exactly a nickname that I wanted for a fifth year in a row.

            "This adds to the story," I mumble aloud, pausing to eat my ice cream and stare at the words on the screen. "It's background." I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not stalling, but hell, I'm stalling.