In the fall of 2006 I started my final year of middle school, 8th grade. It started off like any other school year, old friends meeting up and making new memories. I was always an outsider because I came to this school in 7th grade as “the new kid”.
I remember I had about 5 total friends, which in middle school might as well have been zero. It certainly wasn’t what you knew but who and who you hung out with. Once family problems arose, I began becoming distant from friends and school in general. I was very emotional and cried nearly every morning.
I can remember the first time it was said to me as if it just happened. It still hurts. Wounds can be so tender after a decade? “You might as well just kill yourself.” What had I done? I know I was weird maybe even downright strange but what on earth could have been so bad that this girl should wish my life away? It was torture with just her voice echoing in my brain.
In a few months nearly everyone else joined in. My abuse, their amusement.
“Bullies only insult others to cover their own insecurities.” Listen, I get that’s supposed to work in sitcoms and PSAs but this is real life. I don’t care why those words were said. I don’t need to know the reasoning behind them because the pain inflicted by those words is all too real.
Knowing she hated herself too didn’t make me hate myself any less. I still woke up daily and wished for death. I saw no value in my life; the loss of it a relief. I began cutting as a way to deal with the constant pain in my everyday life. I felt so empty and so alone. I hated myself.
This statement led to 7 years of self-loathing, self-doubt, self-hatred and multiple suicide attempts.
I’m 23 now and I don’t hate myself as much. I don’t think about what she said every day, but I hear it in every single bad thing. I hear it in fights with friends or family. I hear it in bad grades. I hear it in disappointments, failures and disagreements. It haunts me.
