Okay, so this is my story. And I’m warning you now...There will be a part of this you won’t like. I don’t like it either, but it’s a part of my story, and I can’t just ignore it. I was in fourth and fifth grade, stupid, and immature. If you can’t handle that, please don’t read this. Just know that after that, is where everything...mostly happened.
Okay, we shall start in Pre-school...Back then I was always attached to my mom’s hip. My dad’s as well. I was their little girl always wanting to be around them. Every day when I got dropped off at pre-school I would cry because I wanted my mom. It didn’t hurt me much back then, but...Once I got to Kindergarten...They started calling me names, pinching me, leaving me out. I couldn’t even sleep during nap time because I was afraid something would happen to me.
First grade, I continued crying, but I blamed it on other things, my throat being sore, my head hurt, things like that. The name calling continued, and it seemed like they had learned new words, worse words. Ones that hurt more. Cut deeper. Second grade, I met the worst person who could’ve come into my life, Courtney. We were only in second grade, I never knew someone could be so horrible. She was the worst. She was ALWAYS the worst.
Third grade, I started to turn into Courtney. We were in Girl Scouts together, and spending a lot of time with her, she started to turn me into her, along with my best friend, at the time, Allie. I still got bullied quite a bit, but I started to stand up for myself...And I called them mean things bad.
Fourth grade is where I started slacking off with my work, classwork, homework, all of it. If someone called me something, I’d call them something a lot worse. I’d pick out something I KNEW they were insecure about, and say something about it. I was...Awful. It didn’t get any better in fifth grade. It got...so much worse. I hung out with the popular crowd, when I felt the need to bully someone. Any other time I’d be with my true friends. They didn’t know about my other side...Or maybe they did. And just didn’t do anything. I wish they would’ve. I wish they would’ve noticed, and said something. Got me to stop. We focused mainly on the “Ugly Girl”, Georgia. We would call her George of the Jungle. Make fun of how she looked. Say she looked like a boy, mustache, unibrow. You made it, we’d say it. One day, Christy, came up to me and said she had an idea. We’d write a note to Alan, a popular guy a few classrooms down, and say it was from Georgia. The things we put in that letter. It wasn’t okay. I still hate myself for it.
In sixth grade, it all came back to bite me in the a**. The first day of school, they all turned against me. They got more and more people against me, said the note was all me. I was a dirty freak. Georgia didn’t want to do that stuff with Alan. I did. Slut. Whore. Freak. Ugly. Useless. No one will ever want you. Disgusting. And I started to believe it. I decided I wanted to get into Softball again at the local rec. park. So, my mom signed me up. One of the girls from school made it on my team, and it was just my luck. I wanted to know people who didn’t go to my school, and wouldn’t know about that note. People who could know me, for me. Not the things other people said. Her name was, Harleigh, and when we were at practice...Every chance she got she would throw the ball at me and try to hit me with it. She told all the girls about me. I was, once again...an outcast. One day, Harleigh, threw the ball at me, when the couch had called us in, and the last thing I remember is the ball coming at my face.
I had slight depression. Self-diagnosed. Then I found the one thing that I'd do anything for, go anywhere for; band. Band took my depression away. I could finally be me again. I made friends, they accepted me for me. I’m still friends with them to this day.
In seventh grade...I met my best friend, Samantha. (Yes, THE Samantha on here <3) Seventh grade was probably the best year. Band got....hard. We got a new director. People quit. It was hard. But that was also the year Watson came to the high school. The new high school band director. He’s why I stayed in.
Skipping eighth. In ninth grade, I met so many people. Gained so many friends. Marching band became my life. Band became my life. The band room became my home. Watson became...my therapist, my brother, my...everything. Second semester...I met the Grade A Douchebag, Bryson. Led me on. Cut me off. And then became the bully he really is. Him and his friends would talk about me when they knew I could hear. Every day. It was the same thing. Over and over. I’d go and sit by Sam if I could. I’d ask Mrs. Gray, our teacher, if I could sit in the back. I’d do everything I could to get out of ear shot. Eventually, it stopped. But they already did their damage. And it was enough for me to pick up that razor and make the first cut.
In tenth grade, thankfully, I had found Zack Scott on YouTube. And watching his Minecraft videos distracted me and made me forget why I wanted to go in that bathroom to that razor in the first place.
Just recently, I passed up the first hot meal I would’ve had in about a week, because of what my grandma said to me that day. Instead of eating, I went to the bathroom, I passed up watching Zack, even though I knew I shouldn’t have. I got in that shower, and I held that razor to my thigh. Ready to do it. But I couldn’t.
No matter how much things hurt me now, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t cut. Because I know I’m better than that. I’m here for a reason. She’s wrong. They were all wrong. I’m none of those things. I’m me. I’m beautiful, smart, talented, creative...And no one can take that away from me now that I’ve accepted it.
I’m going to leave you with this, you may not think that you are beautiful, or smart, or talented. You may think you’re ugly, and worthless because that’s what people tell you, right? Well, let me ask you something. Why are you still here then?...You’re here because deep down. You know that they are wrong. They have to be wrong. Why else would you still be here? You know they’re wrong, deep down. It’s just up to you, to bring that from deep down...To the surface.
Thank you for reading, my story.
An admin,
-Amber.
P.S. There isn’t a single song that really helped me. But there is a song that means the world to me, and I won’t try to explain it, because it’s a band thing. It’s called Salvation Is Created. It is a band piece written for a band...with like trumpet, flute, clarinet, bassoon (*whispers* which is what I play.), you know those kinds of intruments. But It is a very moving piece. But it may also be me, becasue of just how much this song means to me. Anyways, I think you should at least try to listen to it. (:
