Trying

I am trying to heal, but I wonder if I will ever get the chance. I have been trying to at least dress nice, but I don’t think I am going to at school. Just wear the ordinary “sweat-shirt and jeans” uniform. The same uniform I have been wearing since Thursday, the day after I found out that people think I’m pregnant. I don’t want to think that, and since I’ve been “pregnant” for about 4 years now, I obviously look like it.

The other day, in Spanish, a girl told me that I dress nice. She first was starting to her friend across the room, talking about who dresses nice and who doesn’t. And then I walked in between them, and one of them said, “Hey, Emily, you dress nice” I think this was on Friday. I said thanks, but didn’t really mean it. I am so used to people giving me complements, then laughing the next second. But then I found out she wasn’t joking, but the friend she was talking to thought she was. She laughed and said, “Ha! No she doesn’t!” I didn’t listen into the rest of the conversation.

I remember in homeroom last year, we were playing a game. The mentors (upperclassmen “leading” the freshman into good choices… I didn’t like it) taped a word on our back, and we’re not supposed to see it. And everyone else is supposed to treat us like that. Like, there was a valley girl, which is basically a dumb blonde. And there was a drama queen. And people were doing what they were supposed to do, treat the people by what their backs said. But when I got mine, I had no idea what it was. And I didn’t want my friends to tell me, because I wanted to figure it out. But I couldn’t. It' was impossible. Whenever someone would look at my back to read the word, all they did was laugh as they walked away. And so I was guessing words like, Clown, or comedian, or you know, something funny. But then the bell rang to go to our next class, and we could see our words. I ripped mine off my back, and it said, “Beautiful”. I did not feel beautiful. I felt like it was all a big joke, that I’m the opposite of beautiful, but ugly.

I don’t ever think I can heal from bullying. I just have to try to forget about it. But I’ve been remembered about it a lot lately, and I feel like crying every time I do think about it. It hurts me. There are scars on my heart, and they will be there forever. Reminding me of my childhood/teen-hood. (If that’s a word…) I am crying right now, as I am typing this. I know people care about me, one of my friends keep sending me messages and emails about how she worries about me. But I just don’t think that enough people care about me. Not a lot of people know my story, how I’ve been bullied for 11 years, and still bullied today. How I have thought about so many things, that people would yell at me for if they find out what I’ve been thinking. Suicide, my funeral, who would show up and who wouldn’t. Don’t worry, I haven't thought about this for a few weeks, and I don’t think I will ever build up the courage to do so. I guess that’s a good thing, not have the courage to do something. What the lion from the wizard of Oz have gone to a great adventure for, Courage. I hope that I never to on that great adventure.