Dear Bully, I Am Not A Toy

Log 8

Dear Bully,

I was just answering your question.

Let's do this...in a different style then.

SETTING: math classroom, your ten feet away from me, but your very far yet close. We are both at desks, facing each other as other talk around us, enjoying their games as we are both in different groups chatting along with different friends.

Zimera: " So, who won in your group Ayla?"
Ayla walks away without being able to answer.
Mo: " Gabie won all three times! She's really good!"
Zimera: " Shut the fuck up, you slut!"

You cover your mouth, but I simply stare at you, my eyes getting duller each second.

If you want to know why, Alex, I look at you, it's to make my eyes brighter. If you want to know why, Alex, I hug you, it's to feel something in my heart come alive after being called names I need to list.

Slut
Hated
Shy
Weak
Dumb
Shit
Worthless
Waste of space
Blank
Quiet
Fat
Hogger
Ugly duckling
Misplaced
Different
Antisocial
Asshole
Nothing

These are some of the things I'm called. And simply being around you Alex, makes those words disappear, being around my true, nice friends, make those names dissapear. Simply feeling loved makes those labels die, for a few minutes, then, when I leave, they are chains around me to fool myself into thinking I am nothing.

Congratulations Zimera, you have done it.
You have done it.
Have done it.
Done it.
It.
What is it you ask?
Why, it's so simple.
You have done the impossible.
You have broken apart an angel.
When I say this, there are no jokes. I've fallen and you pressure me to do your dirty work.

There is no more room for me to see another faked smile on me, so I'll have to tell my friends what's happening, hopefully they don't kill me.

Though I think I've already died on the inside,
Mo
P.S. I cried at home after school, I'm doing it right now. Yay, blood tears it what's happening asshole.