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Editor's Note: This article deals with mature subject matter, and if you are under the age of 13, I strongly encourage you to have a parent/guardian read this article first, and that everyone discusses it with a parent/guardian afterward.
I am one of the lucky ones. I emerged unscathed but for the scars on my wrists and the bruises on my heart. My mind reels over past events and I often wonder, why me? If not me, it would of been someone else. I live a life of depression, anxiety, obsessiveness and perfection and yet, that is all they have left me with. The best thing I got from them, is the knowledge I am a good person, I am a better person than them, I am a fair person and I am a person who will not be held down.
When I was twelve, people would put stink bombs in my desk and backpack. The teachers turned a blind eye. When I was in grade four a boy cut my ponytail off. In grade five the same thing happened again. People would steal one of my shoes and at home time I would have to call my parents to come get me, because I only had one shoe. However, the brunt of what occurred happened in high school.
In grade seven, I had gone from being an alright girl to the loser girl. I do not know why. My friends still talked to me, but not at school. In class they avoided me, and at recess I was alone. In grade eight, the popular clique picked me up again. I had not been friends with these girls since grade three, and suddenly they were interested in hanging out. So I went, as any lonesome thirteen year old girl would. These girls were perfection. Popularity meant a free ride through school without ever being bullied again. Eight long months I was one of them. I ditched my old friends, and I talked garbage about people behind their backs. I had three-way phone calls with girls. I let some boy touch my chest because that is what they did. I drank at parties. I smoked cigarettes in the woods with them. I remember we girls did not know what drugs were but we saw boys smoking from plastic bottles. We copied them, but without drugs, so in essence, I smoked plastic bottles.
One night at a park I remember a boy asking who was going to do something very adult with him, and I turned away, scared they would pick me to do it. I was scared to even kiss a boy, and my biggest fear was they would force me into something I did not want because they had some kind of magical power over my actions. I left and went home and I still remember crying to my mum that I hated these girls. She asked why I hung out with them then. I said, "I do not know."
Finally June came and with it graduation. I let loose and told everyone everything they had done over the year. They were livid and hated me. Enter grade nine, the first day of hell for the next three years.
High school was a barrage of name calling. People driving on my front lawn. People egging my house, people egging me as I walked down the street. People cut up my gym clothes, people stole things from my locker. People drew on me, people spat on me, people threw food. My bike got stolen a few times. And people told lies. I had no friends. Well, save one from Whyville. At lunch I read alone in a corner, sometimes daring to eat my lunch there. Mostly I ate my lunch in the bathroom in the gym locker room away from everyone. They made websites about me, they added me with fake emails to make fun of me, they even joined Whyville at one point to harass me. I could not get away from them. The only time anyone was nice was after I got in an accident and destroyed my face. For the month it took to heal, I was ignored. Then they started up again. I literally wanted to die.
I look back and I think I hate them for it. I think what awful people they were. And yes, some of them truly are awful people. But it is not my place to treat them as though they are, but to remember they are as human as I am. In all this time I never have retorted. I never once hit anyone back. I never stole my bike back from the people who had it. I didn't give them any more reason to hate me than they already had. We went to a new school, and I was ignored, then made fun of only by the popular clique. I had friends. For once in my life, true friends. Who I still have. And hey, I am still here. I am still living my life and being the best person I can be because, I know they do not mean anything. I mean things, for me. They, do not.
The thing is, like they say in Mean Girls, "Calling someone fat will not make you any prettier, calling someone dumb will not make you any smarter." Whether you are the one who takes the brunt of the emotional and physical pain or the one inflicting it. Think about it.
To those who are bullied and made fun of, it is hard. I know. But remember this, high school ends. People grow up. You may never be friends with the people who bother you, but there is a chance they will one day say sorry, and mean it. When high school ends, so does the drama. In the "real world" people are generally a lot more mature. They will tell you straight up what the deal is, and that is that. They won't bother to make fun of you and try and make your life hell for no reason. It is scary, honestly. I started college and the first day people were all around me talking to me. I couldn't help but think why are these people talking to me? I did not realize they wanted to be my friend. I am terribly scarred by my experiences, and a lot of you will be too, but you can work through it. You will have wonderful friends. You already must have one wonderful friend. Life will be just the way you want it to be, because, you will make it so.
And always remember, just because it happened to you, does not mean it is okay to do it to someone else. These people now, right now, making fun of you, hold no bearings over your future. Just because someone hated you in high school will not bar you from going to a good school, getting a good job, meeting a nice partner, or anything. It means nothing as soon as you walk out those doors forever. These people, will get what they deserve in time, life seems to work out nicely like that. They will not dictate who you are or who you will become, they cannot control you. You control you, and you will go on to great and wonderful things and this experience, if you learn from it, can bring about tremendous wonderful things for people, including yourself.
-BP
Outcast Speaking.
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