#NoMoreBullying

I know what it's like

I've heard those words too:

Stupid, worthless, ugly, loser, freak, psychotic bitch, Dumb, moron, MISTAKE.

And to tell you the truth, my year of misery never quite ended.

In seventh grade I tried out for cheer. Not because I wanted to or anything. I did it to make my parents happy. You see, Mom though that it'd help me make friends. In truth, no one wanted to be friends with a, to quote my classmates, short, stupid bitch that wants attention.

I never wanted attention, but I got it anyways. And it wasn't the way most girls dream of having popularity. I was pretty much known because of me defending a boy with special autism. It was my second month in my new school, and I already had people talking trash.

I didn't regret helping that boy. Oh God, I did it because he didn't deserve it. Who deserves to be bullied? No one.

I couldn't but to help him. How would you feel if you saw him with backpack on the floor and people pretty much walking all over it. Meanwhile, others spit unkind colors of the rainbow. And I helped the boy because that could be me.

So after that, I had heard whispers in the hallway. I didn't mind much because I knew all that trash wasn't true, but then they started using the big guns.

"You're dad left because no one wanted you, Aria."

Please, don't tell me things that I don't already know, I thought.

Why did I let them eventually let me believe them? God, I was that stupid to listen to them and think it was all true.

I tried ignoring it at first, but then they learned that I walked home from school. So they followed me one day. "You look like a mess, as always, Aria." I remember them saying. It was just after a pep rally, my ears were pounding and I was so tired from all that action.

After a minute of standing frozen as they kept talking and talking meaningless words. "You think you can steal all the attention?"

"Bitch," one said.

"Mistake, just a mistake kid. Why don't you just help everyone and die?"

I still remember the day. They not only took away my confidence, but they scarred me for life.

I know I wasn't the poster child for perfection, but I really tried making friends. At the time I only had...one..two...three...four. Yes, out of around three hundred seventh graders and I only had four friends.

But let me tell you something, I told my friends the next week. I had to. I mean, you can't hide a damn bruise on your arm forever. I tried playing it off as if it were nothing, but they knew.

My friends walked me home the nect day, and the day after and so forth, so on.

The teachers found out, but that didn't stop them. It just got worse. Eventually, they got bored with me like they do with most of their victims. My parents decided that it would be best for me to move again, but I said that I wanted to stay.

I faced it. Maybe I wasn't a perfect girl. I wasn't pretty, and I sure as hell wasn't preppy. I accepted myself. The four friends I had accepted me.

That's the problem with society. They can't accept you unless you got either money or looks.

If you're getting bullied, don't be like I was. Don't play it off like everything's okay. Honey, speak to us. You can't hold it in forever, dear. You're gonna break and you'll be broken. And accept yourself. I know it hurts, even after you're safe, but serious wounds can't heal without proper help. Without them, it'll just lead to infection.

You don't want to get that "infection." In other words, you won't be able to accept yourself.

YOU ARE NOT SOCIETY'S PROBLEM.

speak. Don't hold it in. I advise you so. It will only make matters worse if you don't.