Dear bullies,

Society looks at your actions more now than ever, but I grew up before the generation of the anti-bullying movement. People have claimed their own lives due to your unconscious, and maybe even conscious actions and you damaged the self-esteem of countless others, injuring them beyond comprehension.

Starting as early as Kindergarten, I remember the ruthless teasing of my classmates. At six years old I didn't comprehend the implications of their words on my self worth, and I plowed through them and "ignored the haters."

"You're too bossy." They told me.

"You're fat." Who taught you that 'fat' is bad?

In fourth grade, I developed faster than the other girls and caught the attention of ruthless classmates. I began horseback riding which the others didn't deem as "cool." I wore (admittedly) dorky glasses and continued to believe my parents when they told me "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."

"You don't dress like us." Because I needed to wear clothes to fit my rapidly developing body.

"Why are you so obsessed with horses?" As if I needed validation to love something "different."

"You're a fat ass." Apparently fourth graders develop colorful vocabularies fast and wield them.

In sixth grade I hit my awkward stage. Hard. I turned into a woman, got shamed for it. I never learned how to wear my hair or style my make up. Boys and girls alike tormented me beyond belief. You made a fake Facebook page to make fun of me and ruin my reputation.

"Maddie, you'll never get a boyfriend." Pretty hefty assumption at 12, right?

"Your hair is SO ugly." My mom assured me they'd be jealous someday. She was right.

"I can't date you anymore because my friends said you're fat and weird." ...Screw you!

"Why did you just create a new Facebook and message me things?" Sorry, the bullies got loose.

In seventh grade, a group of boys from an older class used to make fun of me from afar. Sometimes chat me on social media and proclaim to "love me," then proceed to ask for inappropriate pictures, then make fun of me mercilessly when I didn't oblige to their cruel requests.

"C'mon baby, just one pic. I'll never show anyone." I'm not your baby, you greasy scumbag.

"What bra size are you?" I started to get bold and messed with them, which only caused more retaliation.

"She's a fat slut, anyway." I hadn't even kissed a boy in seventh grade.

In eighth grade I bent and broke myself. I lost a ton of weight. I started wearing make up and coloring my hair. I tried as hard as possible to make them love me. I said no wrong, did no wrong. Then they started "moo-ing" at me in the hallways.

"The only reason she has big boobs is because she's fat." Right, yes. Like thats your business.

"She's a fat cow." At least I'm not shallow, but fat is worse, duh.

"She's so desperate." As if I deserved to "date" a loser like those that surrounded me.

My freshman year of high school I ran with the cool crowd, trying to rise to the top and achieve high school "fame," and peak at sixteen. I liked a boy, found out the boy led me on, found out the boy started getting involved with my "best friend," found out the boy only told me he liked me because he "felt sorry for me."

"I only kissed her because I felt bad for her." Ok. Cool.

"Maddie has NO idea." Yeah, thats funny! Tell someone you like them then laugh about them."

My freshman year of college. I bully myself.

"You'll never be good enough for anyone." Because of what they said in seventh grade.

"You're actually disgusting. I don't want to look at myself in the mirror." Heaven forbid the girl staring back at me have a chubby face or rolls on her stomach.

"Your boyfriend will leave you because you're not the skinniest, prettiest, perfect girl. You're emotional and unpredictable. You're fat. You're unattractive." Like those aspects define me.

At almost twenty years old the words still haunt my mind and injure my relationships. I am not sensitive. I am not playing victim. I AM a victim of crappy parenting, absent morals, and words like giant spiked clubs. I hear the echo of my bullies words whenever I accomplish something, whenever I try to open up to friends or in a relationship. I grew a thick skin, I hardened my heart, I turned icy cold from the inside out. You forced the innocence out of my life and permanently scarred my decision making process.

So dear bullies, at age six, fifteen, twenty five, fifty, or eighty seven. Remember what you say. Watch your tongue. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words could probably kill me.