Dear Bully, you need to know,
Listen, or, read, whichever flaw you will not scream at me for.
Look, I know, I have flaws, but you don't know the story.
You don't know the work.
You don't know the sacrifices.
You don't know the hell.
The hell.
The hell I've been through.
So let me ask you this.
If I've been put through hell, what right does that give you to put me through it again and again, everyday?!
So you understand, I've wrote my life. And so you will actually read it, I made it better.
January, 10, a baby, tan girl is born, around 8:00 a.m.
Her eyes brown shown round bound.
Her buck teeth failed to be unique.
Her face circle and chubby.
The thinks her life is lovely.
A mother, father, brother, and dog.
Jen, T, Nick, and Mochi, her family.
She lives in a small street, her neighbors mostly boys.
She lives with the boys of street thinking of her mostly lovely life.
She lives, being beaten by the boys when their given the chance, she cries when her cuts bleed.
She lives with battle wounds while she bleeds tears everyday, every wound.
Soon, she starts school, and it's no better.
Kindergarten, teachers mean. Her first year at the new school and she doesn't know anything, the teachers yells at her most of the time for giving options on what to do, so, she cries in class and gets yelled at more.
One day, she points to a spider and screams, the teacher sends her to her desk and yells at her once again, emberassing her more in front of her classmates.
She tries to make friends with the girls, but doesn't fit in, so she makes friends with the boys, and the girls think she's weird." She's so weird, she hangs out with boys." Or, " eww, why would she do that? She's soooooo different." Maybe, " OMG LOOK! SHES PLAYING WITH THE BOYS? WHO EVEN DOES THAT?!"
The girl cries at home, but she tries to keep it in and act like she doesn't notice the girls, but she does.
She notices them pointing
She notices them whispering
She notices them laughing
She notices them glaring
She notices them pushing
She notices them hurting
First grade, she makes little to no friends. She gets rewards for doing her work, but she can never do it alone, her mom always helps her, her mom helps her with math, reading, writing, spelling, EVERYTHING!
The girl can't do it at school because her mother isn't with her. Her mothers at home, far, far away.
Second grade, she has a terrible substitute. But she cries every night, her first friend has died, and there's no replacing her, Mochi, her dog, has died.
There is nobody in the world who can make her heart full again, so she cries, holding her dog toys, until her parents throw away the toys without her knowing, and make her scream, and cry, and swear, and dead inside.
Third grade, she learns nothing, and it's where she is striped of loved.
She struggles with the teaching, forever being bleaching she asks for help but never gets help.
Her heart struggles of responsibility and friendship, until she loses both.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Bully, I Am Not A Toy
RandomThis is just my bullying story, it's still happening today, and it will never stop. This is the story coming from a girl with anxiety, from a bully who doesn't give a shit.
