No One Tells Us

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This piece is really deep about what went through my mind as I struggled to grasp something that was good in the world.

Submitted: December 29, 2015

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Submitted: December 29, 2015

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Even from the beginning we learn that bullying is wrong.  Don’t bully others! If you see it happening tell an adult, but here is something they don’t tell us. They don’t tell us not to bully ourselves. I don’t think many people see it like that. We only think of someone pushing or hurting another but what if your bully is trapped inside your head? Who can save you from something they can’t see, hear, or feel? No one, you become lost. It’s that voice that won’t go away, that constantly nags and picks at you. There is no escape. You can’t go home and forget because it’s in your head…what’s even worse is that it knows everything. It hears your thoughts, feels all that you do, and knows everything you do. It knows the perfect places to strike. What will hurt the most or cause the most pain. So tell me how do you survive through that every day? You don’t…you sit and listen as it tells you everything that is wrong with you. Cover your ears! Block out the voice! Yell, scream, thrash! There is no way out. You’re stuck. Sitting on the shower floor you start to rock. “Like a child! Can’t you grow up?” The water from the shower head falls like rain and mixes with your tears. “You’re weak! It’s no one else’s fault but your own! You did this to yourself!” The water has slowly been getting colder. Reaching up you turn off the flow. Standing, you dry yourself, get dressed, the stop, it’s the mirror. You stare into your reflection. What do you see? “A coward!” You’ve had enough. You grab the blade. Look away! “Craven! Worthless!” The blade grazes your once untainted wrist. You never want to do it. Then why do you? There isn’t an answer to this question. Stop asking! I don’t know why! No I don’t enjoy it! I can feel the blade when it cuts deep enough to bleed. It’s a lot of pain. Then stop! You don’t, so you continue. It starts with one every now and again. Then it’s one maybe two a night. Then before long it is four or five, possibly three on a good day. Now you must kind the cuts. Don’t let anyone see! “You’re just begging for attention!” It doesn’t end. You want to talk about it, to speak up but…”It doesn’t matter! No one cares!” So you tumble deeper until…nothing. It’s everlasting, you just keep falling. 


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