Erste Hilfe (bei Mobbing)

Erste Hilfe (bei Mobbing)

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Aug 24, 2014
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Non-Fiction
Du hast dieses Buch aus einem der folgenden Gründe angeklickt: -Du wirst gemobbt und willst wissen, ob wir dir helfen können -Du kennst jemanden, der gemobbt wird und fragst dich, ob du dem-/derjenigen nicht helfen kannst -Du interessierst dich einfach für das, was wir hier schreiben und findest dieses Projekt gut. Egal warum, du bist hier richtig, also lies ruhig weiter. In den folgenden Kapiteln werde ich versuchen, verschiedene "Level" von Mobbing aufzuführen und jeweils anzugeben, wie du dir oder Anderen helfen kannst. Mobbing ist leider eine der schlimmsten Dinge der Schulzeit und bei Vielen leider alltäglich, daher ist es wichtig, dass man es nicht zu weit kommen lässt und den Mobbern klar und deutlich ihre Grenzen zeigt. Wenn ihr Fragen oder Anmerkungen, oder Probleme mit Mobbing habt, schreibt uns anonym per pn an, dafür sind wir da.
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Pyro

Let me tell you my story, the one about how I died. Don't worry, though. I came back. They say when someone shares their story, they're sharing their burden. Seeking someone to help carry the weight that bends their shoulders, hoping their troubles will float away like helium balloons into the endless sky. Your silence becomes their sanctuary, a vacuum they fill with dust-covered memories. If you speak, do it gently - a nod, a smile, the ghost of a touch on their shoulder. But my story? It's different. It carved its path because trust becomes a luxury I could no longer afford. How could it not, when the one person who swore to never betray me did exactly that? The one who promised never to hurt me, broke me. The one who vowed to stay, walked away. So tell me, why trust anyone else when the person I trusted the most killed me in every way but physical? Until they managed that too. They say the most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey. I learned this truth through split knuckles and shattered promises, through blood on my tongue and threats whispered against skin. Through playing weak while gathering my strength in darkness. Now I watch him, this self-proclaimed hunter in his own game. He doesn't see he's just another piece being moved across someone else's board. The mafia's golden prince, they whisper. If only they knew what lurks beneath that polished veneer. What dances behind those eyes that mirror the shadows I know so well. But shadows? They're born from fire. And somewhere out there, someone's striking matches, leaving black roses on cooling ashes, drawing closer with every corpse that falls. They call him Pyro. And when that name drops in a room. Well, let's just say I'm not the only one with secrets worth killing for. Some demons wear designer suits. Some victims wear crowns. And some fires are worth burning for. Welcome to the game. Trust no one. Not even me.

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