My Story

Middle school 6th-8th grade

Middle school was even worse than elementary by a lot. The Summer I was going into 6th grade, my siblings and I were asleep when suddenly our dad comes to our room and says, "get dressed and put your shoes on, mom is in the hospital". We just started bawling our eyes out and freaking out. We get ready and get in the van, and the whole way to the hospital my sister and i are in the backseat, logan is in the middle row, and my sister is trembling and shivering. me, i'm looking out the window, fearing the worst. When we finally got to the hospital, we had to wait a few hours just to see our mom. When we were finally taken to her hospital room, I was crying hysterically because she was unconsious but still alive. The doctor told dad that Mom had a stroke and that she'll be okay. Sadly, when our mom was released, she was in a wheelchair, but, she's permanently paralyzed and the wheelchair is forever. Now onto the school year. The first day, I avoided eye contact with everyone and I sat in the back of the bus, looking out the window and minding my own business, but it wasn't easy with the little ones in elementary always bugging me about wanting to play games on my tablet, or asking me for snacks. I would journal sometimes on the bus, but the little kids, even the fifth and fourth graders were nosy as hell. They would never leave me alone. These girls in the seat next to me always brought slime and were palying with it, and I would ask them politely if I could play with it too. They always said no, and I just nodded and moved on and didn't ask again. However, the one day that I brought slime on the bus for ME to play with, those same girls, who were in my grade, AND some of my classes, look at me and say, "Hey, Sophia, can we feel your slime?" I looked at them and hesitantly handed it over with a fake smile and nod, because i'm a nice person. They'd give it back when we got to school, but other than that, the bus was loud, obnoxious high-schoolers blasting their fucking music in the back of the bus, little kids crowding around me, asking for food, to play games on my tablet, look at what i'm writing when I was journaling, etc. Things were worse at school because every day, I was quiet, kept to myself and just stared at my empty table. On the first day of sixth grade, my teacher had all of us do a "Get To Know You" game where she'd throw a ball into the air and whoever it got tossed to, that person would tell the class about themselves. When it got to me, I was silent, and I felt like i was gonna break down. Luckily I didn't, and I managed to utter some things about myself. It wasn't much. I barely said a word for the rest of class. My first two classes were with her. My third class was math class. We basically did the same thing as first and second period, but in math style. Once again, I avoided eye contact with literally everyone and didn't say a word. It went on like that for the rest of the day. As the year went on, things got worse and worse. I had constant outbursts, I was bullied, I didn't know how to shave. But worst of all is when it was the day of our school's halloween dance and it was during school hours. I couldn't go because I had loads of homework to catch up on. I was in the classroom doing it and that day, I was feeling sick and no matter how many fucking times i said it, I was crying, screaming and running my fingers through my hair. I was having a mental breakdown and my teacher called it a temper tantrum. I said it's not a tantrum and she said it was and that i'm acting like a spoiled toddler. Eventually i finished with my work and i went to the office straight after and i was feeling really sick, but didn't have a fever. I told them all my symptoms, and yet they wouldn't let me call my dad or go home. I was stuck at school until dissmissal. I struggled in all my classes due to my anger issues and zoning out. I always fidgeted in my seat and couldn't stop. I did a volcano project and got a D on it, and with a note that said, "not enough effort, sophie" with a frowny face next to it. Frankly, I tried my best and my teacher was always such a damn critic. In gym class whenever we played any games at all that required partnering up with someone or a group of two, three or whatever, nobody chose me. nobody wanted to partner up with me. i was always forced to be in a group and whatever group i was put in, they'd always groan in annoyance. I always responded with "i'm not happy about it either" and they just ignored me, didn't acknowledge i was there. In seventh grade, I promised myself that i wouldn't have any more outbursts, but my mind had other fucking plans. The outbursts still happened and my anxiety got worse and i kept to myself and didn't really talk to anyone. in my SmartLab class, these group of boys made fun of me, and one boy piped up with his lousy big mouth and said that i'm so ugly that could throw up his food from his esauphogus. I burst into tears and ran out and hid somewhere in the school but i was quickly found and brought back to class. Eighth grade is when my depression started and all because of the same boy who bullied me in sixth and seventh grade. Not only that, but all through seventh and eighth grade, my boyfriend and i had an on and off relationship before he shattered my heart into a million pieces by attempting to cheat on me with my sister. luckily my sister turned him down. I was really happy. but then i lost all my friends and we drifted apart and we all hated each other. My depression grew worse and worse, and I started self-harming, having more constant outbursts, paying less attention in class, drawing instead of actually paying attention, listening to depressing music, feeling insecure. I always hated the way that I felt and hated myslef for who i was. I always hated talking about myslef, because I never felt confident in my words and I always struggled with verbally expressing how i felt. I never knew how to say it, or how to express it. Most of my whole middle school expirience, I spent in detention, the guidance counselor's office, principal's office, and more detention. I felt like an outsider and lonely. I barely talked to anybody at that school and I wished I could've just been braver and put myself out there, but I just couldn't bring myself to do so. I was the quiet kid in my classes and got called on barely ever. Some of the teachers made me feel like my problems were invalid. I hated going to school or riding on the bus, and so I always begged my dad to drive me, but he said no. On the bus, my sister would be laughing with her fake-ass friends and I'd be left on the sidelines in my seat, sitting alone, or sitting next to a 6-year-old. It was so humiliating for me and I just wanted to sit with my sister, but she'd turn me down.