My story may not be as bad as others but everybody feels things differently. My bullying started at the age of 4. I used to get tortured by my old neighbors, they would kick me down, push me down, spit on me. I would still hang out with them because I couldn’t make any other friends.They finally moved away when I was about 7. In all of my grades I had trouble making friends. In third grade I had actually made good friends but half way through the year they turned against me and fought over me so I dumped all of them and was alone once again. In fourth grade I had amazing friends! Up until one day on of my friends had had a crush on the other. I was made an accessory. A third wheel. The names had built up higher and higher. Lots of drama had built up because one of my friends had spread that her and my other friend were dating. It got ugly. Awful, awful, awful things were said about them and because I have gay moms I was TORTURED about it. People had escalated it. I cried every night. I had pulled away from both friends and was left alone. One day, I picked up my brothers pocket knife and held it my neck, thinking about it. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. This year everything had got worse, except now I have real friends. Everyone had made rumors that me and my guy friend were dating. It was a chain reaction and the rumors said I had dated every guy. I was labeled a slut. I got called names by older kids too. Everyday. I cried and cried. I started into art. It helped me so much. But everything got worse. I got called fat and worthless. Life was too much. I couldn’t take it anymore. I have started cutting.(Mind you this is still fifth grade.) Cut, cut, cut every so often. I told my friends they are trying to help me. And then the word fat caught in. I try to starve myself. I cry in the mirror. I try to eat more often now, but it’s hard. I cut more often now, but I’m trying to stop. The moral of this is to stay strong. Keep fighting against it. Don’t ever give up. Stay strong. ❤
~My Story, by Anonymous