BULLIED

Submission 513

It all started in grade three, the year my best friend moved away. We never stayed in contact, since we both were too young for cellphones. Although, when she left, I seemed to grow more popular. Being more open to people, joining my circle of 'friends'. I have to admit, I loved being the 'Queen Bee' of my public school, and everyone did what I asked. But, like any other popular girls, my friends weren't willing to stick up for me. One girl, who I considered a good friend before I was bullied, one boy would make fun of her, I put a stop to that quickly.

I thought my friends would do the same, but I was wrong. One of the girls, who wasn't in the circle of 'friends', started to bully me and others were joining in. It was mostly words like, "Stupid" and "Dumb" that got to me. I grew insecure, building on a stutter when I spoke. I started to believe that I was ugly and stupid, my marks and efforts dropping.

Since I was so young when it started, I didn't know what depression was. But now, when I look back at the memories, I realize that I probably suffered the mental illness. The symptoms were definitely there. I never told my parents of the events going on at school, I couldn't do it. I ended up making it worse, building it all up inside me.

As the bullying got worse, and my friends started to mildly bully me as well, I got sadder. I hated going to school, knowing what was waiting for me. My brother somehow found out I was being bullied by the first girl who started it, and he came to me about it. I told him but I vaguely remember it.

I remember him walking up to the girl while she was at her locker, and started to lecture her. I remember how it made it worse, even though I said it made it better. Soon the boys joined in.

It continued for three years without anyone knowing, and I stayed with the friends who were still bullying me. In a grade six lesson on multiplication the teacher was doing random things and numbers time's one. I knew those of course. But when he called me he said, "What's 1,049,238 times one?"

I started and tried to repeat the number, but I got nervous because of everyone looking at me. I stopped and it seemed like I didn't know the answer. Everyone in the class laughed at me, mumbling 'She's so stupid.". That day was the worst.

It continued on to grade seven, but died down a bit. I had anxiety about people looking at me and if I was called on by a teacher I would stutter. I became so insecure that the biggest bully became myself. One day, my friends and I were hanging out a recess. They were all on their phones and one girl showed a text message conversation on her phone to everyone. The messages were talking about a girl, who had no name in the conversation mentioned, and how when she was slapped by another girl, she took it like a whore. Well, my other friend turned to me and slapped me, then said, "Look, she took it like a whore!". Everyone laughed. I had to join in, making sure they didn't know how much it hurt.

When I went home, there were no cars in my driveway, so I assumed everyone was out of the house. I walked in the side door and rushed into the bathroom, starting to ball my eyes out. I was probably in there for a good ten minutes before I cleaned myself up, but I had red eyes from crying so hard. Anyways, I walked upstairs, still sniffling from crying, and my older sister was sitting on the couch. She saw me and confronted me about it. I didn't give her the details, just simply said, "My friends were being mean". She responded saying, "You need to leave that group of friends."

After that conversation, I tried to leave them. But I couldn't, it became an addiction to stay with them. If I did leave them I would feel sick to my stomach all the time, missing them. Into my grade eight year, the other people stopped bullying me. I still was insecure about everyone looking at me, thinking that they were judging me harshly. The only people treating me bad were my friends, and mostly myself. I became my own nightmare.

One night, I was still awake from crying. I would get these episodes of sadness, as if I was bipolar. For a week I would be happy, calm, relaxed. Give it a week more and I would become depressed. I had these thumb tacks in my room, and I picked one up. I started to pick holes in my arms using it. I stopped that night, never doing that again. But to this day, I still pick at my skin and cause it to bleed, making circular scars.

During another night of tears, I walked over to my window. I got the most beautiful view of the full moon, no clouds in the sky. I stared at it; the desire to run away from home grew in my mind like a plague. After that I always thought about, planned it, but never went through with it.

My grade eight year was my year of recovery, trying to prove that I wasn't stupid. I was aiming for honor roll, which is getting a 80% average or higher. When I graduated I thought I wasn't getting it, feeling like an idiot once again. But they called my name and I felt happy, the first time in a long time. I got a character award for being creative and helping the school with projects and clubs.

This summer is my summer going into grade nine. A day after school ended, I had a fight over a group chat on imessage. These girls were gossiping about a good friend of mine, who is now my best friend. Anyway, they were continuing to do it, it had been going on for a while. I got sick of it and told them to stop. One girl kept going and I got pissed at her. Anger took over my thoughts and I regret writing what I wrote.

I basically spilled everything that they were bullies and I was a victim to them. They told me I was lying. Lying about how they bullied me for years and I never spoke up. My heart was pounding in my chest. It continued on for that weekend. My mother took notice and talked to me. I told her everything.

Later on, the girl who I got pissed at earlier texted me. She said, "Sorry I bullied you." I was shocked. I thought she was actually doing it. But it turned out it was sarcasm, she bashed me around, telling me again that I am a liar and she never said mean things to me. I surrendered, giving her what she wanted.

And now, I have no friends, starting fresh. My only friend is that girl I stood up for. She thanked me so many times, knowing that I had gone all out to defend her. Life got better. Yes, I missed the girls who I used to be friends with. But I remind myself, every day, that they bullied me and treated me wrong. Don't let people push you around like I did, speak up for yourself no matter what.