Abigail's friends de-friended her in the previous months. Abigail is finding it hard to go to school. She is being bullied by her ex-friends whenever a teacher is not present, making it hard for her to walk to her classes. She results to hiding d...
It was nice and quiet on the far side of campus. No one was around to call me names or to pick on me; it was just my music, my writing, and I. On days like this, I found the words flowing out of me like a river. It was hard to stop when the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The only time where I can be myself was over for the day. Sometimes, I physically groaned knowing I wouldn't be able to finish my writing until I got home. Today was no different. I was in the middle of writing a piece that I knew would be a piece that I would come to love and eventually try to get published.
I reluctantly closed my notebook and headed off to my next class. I turned up the volume on my iPod and braced myself for the hallways. The halls were a feeding ground for everyone. I was always watched with close eyes. If I so much as tripped or accidentally bumped into someone's arms I would be called names. The "abortion is bad" posters constantly reminded me of the town that I was in. All my peers seemed to be cut out of the same cloth that their parents were made out of. Let me tell you this, being in a conservative town is terrible. Especially when you do not agree with many things your peers do.
Names of all kinds got thrown at me while I walked the four hundred feet to my next class. No matter how many times I heard the names, it would still hurt having to the names directed towards me. Every time I was called any kind of name—no matter if it was new or old—it still hurt me as if it was the first time the name was christening my ears.
Every school day consisted of the same thing: name-calling, classes, more name calling, me time, more name calling classes, home. Everywhere I went I got bullied. Even the bathroom isn't as safe as you would think. It's a great place for someone to tell you how they really feel about you without having to worry about getting caught. There are no teachers to tell them that what they were saying wasn't nice; they were completely free from getting in trouble. My days had started to follow this pattern two months ago; my days were cyclical. Each day never failed to stray from the trend.
The day passed slowly, but I made it through. I headed to my locker to get the books I needed for my homework. As soon as I opened my locker a piece of paper fell out. I looked at it and felt the tears start to form at the corners of my eyes. My head was photo shopped on a Victoria Secret model's body barely wearing anything. It said my "nickname" on it. Easy A. Not wanting to see what they had made anymore, I crumpled up the poster and threw it in the nearest trash can. I knew the poster would have already been circulated to the entire student body via picture, but that didn't stop me from getting rid of the physical copy. I ran away, not thinking about the scene I was causing. I needed to get away from everyone. I needed an escape from everything.
The "they" I am referring to is my old friends. We had been friends for years and I thought that nothing would break us apart. But they showed their true colors when I told them something that I had not told anyone before. That was about two months ago and since then, I have been alone. They have been spreading rumors of every kind about me. Everything I do seems to grant them a right to spread something else about me or make sure that the whole school knows.
I ran to my spot, trying not to think about all the people staring and laughing at me as I passed. Some even yelled that they would be by later to make my night spectacular. Once I got to my spot, I took a minute to gather myself. Without thinking twice, I grabbed my writing notebook. The spine was worn from the many times I opened it. The stickers on the cover were peeling from pulling it out of my backpack so many times. Stickers also littered the inside cover of my notebook. The book was falling apart, but I wouldn't stop writing in the notebook until it was all filled.
My old friends gave many of the stickers to me, but I couldn't get myself to try to cover them up. My hand moved on its own and started writing. I wrote about the poster, my old "friends" and even about the peacefulness of my spot. I don't share my writing with anyone, so I let my heart and soul pour out onto the pages.
After writing for an hour, I had calmed down enough to head home. My home, like my spot, is another place where I seem to forget about my problems. My parents always managed to make me forget about how bad school was. The nicknames vanished as if they were never uttered. Home was the only place where I was truly happy.
When I got home, I still had four hours until my parents got home. I decided to finish my homework then take a long needed shower. The warm water helped me relax and forget about school. After I showered, I got into my pajamas and read. I saw reading as a way for me to escape my life and get lost in another. I would be able to pick up any book and travel to the character's world and forget about my own. Before I realized it, my dad called me down for dinner. I was so absorbed in the novel that I hadn't heard both my parents come home and prepare dinner.
In my family, we always ate together no matter how hectic our days had been. Dinner was our one time during the day to forget about everything that was bothering us and focus on our family as a whole. I always loved our family dinners. Unlike my old friends' parents, any topic was open for conversation: local gossip, politics, school, vacations, books, movies, and future trips. My parents would always try to get me to talk about school, but I never budged with telling them anymore than it was boring.
That night my mom suggested we watch a movie together after dinner. My dad loved the idea and I could use to spend some time with my parents. I knew they cold tell something was going on that I wasn't telling them, but they never pushed me to tell them anything, which I greatly appreciated. After dinner, my dad picked out the movie while my mom and I got the drinks and snacks. I got popcorn for my mom, chips for my dad and cookies for me. Usually, the movies my dad picks out are boring or aren't from the past decade, but the movie he picked out was actually pretty good. It was a black and white Abbott and Costello film. It had my whole family laughing their heads off.
When it was time for me to go to bed, I started to get sad. For the past couple of weeks, I had been dreading school a lot more than I normally did. When I was first getting called names I thought it would pass in a week or so, but the names had only gotten worse as weeks passed.
Falling asleep was not the easiest for me to do anymore. I'd lie down on my bed and stare at my ceiling, thinking about what my old friends and classmates might do to me tomorrow. Eventually, my body would have had enough and I would fall asleep, but not until I would have already thought of how bad the next day would be. Tonight was just like any other night.
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