Bullying Isn't a Joke!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My thoughts on something that happened to me recently (as well as past events), but kind of in a story form.

Submitted: November 09, 2015

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Submitted: November 09, 2015

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~Bullying Isn't a Joke!~

My life was okay. Nothing special. Nothing great. Nothing really worth anything. I dragged myself by, you know?

I never liked school. Never. I always hated it for various reasosn. One of those reasons was bullying. I got bullied a lot for various reasons. It all began in P.5 (Primary Five. I was nine) when all of the 'new' people started to come in. There was many new students, yes, and everyone was excited. Except me. I didn't care. But, then I suddenly did, when my friends drifted away from me to hang out with the 'normal' and 'cool' people that came. I accepted it at first. I could live on my own, couldn't I?

Nope.

During P.5, P.6 and P.7, I was laughed at for one of my personal medical conditions that I had suddenly gained from nowhere. No one liked me... except for at least three people. Everyone laughed at me, made sarcastic questions directly to me about the condition, made comments thinking I wouldn't notice and even went so far as to hurt me physically. No one ever wanted to talk to me. No one ever asked me to go to their birthdays (yet they'd ask complete strangers). No one said 'hi' or asked how I was. No one offered to hang out with me. No one cared, really.

Everyone pretened I didn't exist, except if they needed a laugh or a joke. Everyone ganged up on me, and isolated me. I had my nicknames, too. No one called me 'Emma'. My name was never Emma. I remember one day I was on my bike, cycling around my estate and this girl and boy came along (they were cousins) and threw a thick rock at my head, knocking my off my bike and leaving me on the ground, whimpering for help because I had froze. Why? Just because I was 'her'.

Oh, of-course, I got back at everyone in my own ways, but that doesn't matter.

It was time to move schools and start fresh at High School as a Year 8. I was happy to get away from my past, and we even moved from that awful estate! We moved to the country, where I was a free as the wind. But, that changed.

The first day came. I had to get a bus, full of people from my school and the boys' school near my school. Then, all of a sudden, I was diagnosed with depression. On that bus, I was constantly laughed at, made fun of, moved away from and given dirty looks or leers. What did I ever do to them? Things happened, mostly on the same bus, which was a double decker. People upstairs sang a song about me. Of-course, it wasn't about me being a person, but something odd and out of place. Thankfully, I never heard it. People would throw their water over me, and throw their trash at me without saying a word.

Every day in Year 8, I would come home crying or sulking, and then rush my homework and try and take my minds off things. I would stab myself with a pen or a pair of scissors, weeping silently so one could hear. Year 8 was a year full of mischief with my newfound friends, but my reputation of being 'her' was now permanent. People from Primary School had followed me. I'm still, to this day, stuck with that reputation from years ago. I'm 'her'.

Year 9, things seemed a tiny bit brighter. My medical condition was clearing up, but not quite gone. I kicked the year off well, but then it suddenly dropped. My parents split up with vicious fights, and I knew that my life was going to be very different. We moved house, but could find nowhere. We were homeless for months, with only my nan's limited house to reside in. I was still bullied like hell, given names and people avoided me like the plague even more. I even managed to catch some rumours about myself. That's when I had had enough.

One day, I came home with my fake smile and headed up to the bathroom. I filled the sink and glared into the mirror, crying my eyes out and actually saying out loud things like: "No one likes you. You're worthless. You mean nothing. Why do you exist? You're a piece of shit. You're a stupid fucker. You'll never get anywhere in life," and so on. Then, I tried to drown myself. Tried. It didn't work. I forced my head out and collapsed on the floor, sobbing madly... at twelve years of age. Other people my age would be out and about, playing at the park or hanging out at friends' houses. And then there's me, trying to kill myself. That's when all the social workers and therapists and doctors got involved. It was awful. I hated it, but finally escaped from it.

Year 10 looked clear. I was happy, and didn't give a shit about anyone anymore after all of my therapy and sessions. My depression, however, was not gone. Things got darker once again, but then I met my first boyfriend, right here on this site. We were together for a year, and people at school somehow found out. They judged him, called him every name under the sun and made up lies about him, just because our relationship was long distance. We broke up, because I couldn't handle it all. And neither could he. Then, I did it again. I tried to poison myself with alcholic ink.

In Year 10, I clicked. I found myself. I found my personality. In primary school and Year 8, 9 and half of 10 in High School, I was a quiet girl. I never spoke, never cursed, never taunted anyone. Never left my house, and never smiled. I kept my head down and I treated everyone with silence unless they talked to me, which was really rare.

Then, I changed. I became dark, very dark and frankly quite twisted. I now love anything miserable and gore-flooded. I love dark and sexual humour. I don't take shit anymore, and I curse like a sailor. I fight if I need to, and I'll stand up for anyone I care about.  I was that way ever since then, and in Year 11, people were drawn to me, mysteriously. I made new friends, and I love them all.

Then came Year 12, the current year and days in which I'm writing this. I thought everything was cleared up now. I could get by, even with so much bullshit in school. My reputation had appeared to have faded, and I was now just a girl no one didn't mind talking to, even with my sinister yet upbeat ways of chatting.

Then Facebook came along and destroyed everything. I was accidentally added to a group chat and then removed. I didn't care. I just shrugged it off. Then the glitch happened. I managed to see everything before I was added in, and I burst into the worst sob session I had ever had. A group of people in a group chat on Facebook were talking about me. Not just talking, but using me and my pictures and statuses on Facebook as their entertainment. They sent porno pictures to each-other, claiming that I had sent them to them personally. The rest of them believed it, and laughed.

Someone even went around telling other people to avoid me, and told lies and rumours. I was apparently a freak. A creep. A slut. A rat. A bitch. Strange. Cold hearted. Angsty. Hated everyone. A magnet for creeps. A piece of shit. A weirdo. Apparently I 'try' to be sexy. I 'try' to fit in. One of my friends decided to take these words into action, and fell out with me.

She said that no one wanted to hear about me, or wanted to know about me. She declared that I should basically change myself, and be 'normal' and keep quiet. I was heavily wounded, and this only happened about two or three weeks ago. I, again, cut myself like a butcher, and attempted suicide, which failed yet again.

When I went into school after I had saw the group chat, I was still in tears and my eyes were bloodshot. I couldn't even walk right, and everyone noticed. Things were resolved, however, but not in my mind. 

I'm still... 'her' at my school. And I always will be.

Bullying isn't a joke. Please get to know people properly. Not through rumours.


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