There was a time when I was fifteen years old. A time where everything was a little bit scary and unrealistic. A time when I did the same thing everyday, talked to the same people, and slept in the same bed every night.

When you’re fifteen, everything kind of sucks. You feel completely grown up but no one believes that you are. You make decisions like you’re an adult but in reality, those decisions will lead to some childish mistakes.

When I was fifteen, I was told I should kill myself. I won’t explain why but I will tell you how. I had recently had my first broken heart and I'm pretty sure everyone knows how that story goes, except, my experience was a little different. My broken heart was accompanied by some mean girls whose goal was to make my life a little more miserable. I was screamed at in the lunchroom by a nineteen-year old senior and mocked for the way I acted, how I thought I was “better than everyone else.” The truth? I didn’t think I was better than anyone. Hell, I didn’t think I was good at all. My best friends sat next to me in that lunchroom but did not speak one word in my defense. They were so petrified (as they should have been) so I faced it alone. One of the worst things about being fifteen is that you don’t really have a voice. My fifteen-year old friends couldn’t help me as much as I couldn’t help my fifteen year old self.

A few days later, I went to lunch after a band lesson and sat at the end of a table trying to eat as quickly as possible. After a couple minutes, I realized that something weird was going on. I soon realized that the people around me were talking about me and later, a hand-written note was passed down the table. The note was basically a “petition” of all the reasons why I should die. The worst part about it was that I was just fifteen. What could a fifteen year old do to make someone that mad?

I ripped the paper up and walked up to the author of this note and said to her, “You should be careful, you don’t know what people are going through.” Those words must’ve resonated with her because she ceased fire and a few months later I actually got an apology.

There was time when I was seventeen years old. There was this girl I knew who despised me. I was used to this, it was something that happened to me often (ever since I was fifteen years old, actually). I didn’t really care though because my high school football team had just won the section title and was on it’s way to the state championships.

It was my senior year and my friends and I were practically skipping to the parking lot because we were so happy. I was walking with my friends Kelly and Chelsea to my car and our other friends were a little bit behind us. Before we knew it, Kelly, Chelsea and I were on the ground dodging a car that was coming right at us. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, I thought it was an angry fan from the opposing team. I quickly learned that the person driving that car was the girl who despised me.

I instantly went into shock. I was not a rookie when it came to being bullied, but no one had ever tried to physically harm me before. Our friends behind us quickly learned what was going on and called the police. We were about an hour away from our hometown, so we knew she would be on the highway for a while. When the cops came, I told them the story through tears and they replied that there was nothing they could do for us. I was so angry. This girl tried to run over my two innocent friends and myself and they couldn’t do anything?

I felt defeated and helpless. This little stunt ruined one of the happiest moments of my high school career. For the four years I was in high school, I was constantly the center of rumors and ridicule. I was just exhausted from all of it.

There was a time when I was almost a high school graduate. It was the last day of school and I walked the hallways of my high school for the very last time. I walked by the lunchroom where people told me to end my life. I walked by the auditorium- the only place I ever felt completely safe. I walked by the people who whispered about me for four years and I decided something. I decided that I didn’t care. I didn’t care that people said and did mean things to me. I didn’t care what people thought. Even though I had some pretty rough times in high school, I also had some pretty great times and met some pretty great people. These were the hallways where I grew up and these were the hallways that I could choose to hate or to be thankful for.

There was a time when I was a sophomore in college. The days where I was fifteen and seventeen seem like a lifetime ago. I chose to forgive my bullies when they sought it out. I even say hi to them when I see them at Target or Hannaford. I chose to forgive what people thought about me because I learned at a very young age that not everyone is going to be your biggest fan. I chose to go back into the classrooms by becoming a teacher. My students will learn that they are strong and that what other people think does not define who they are.

I decided to share my story not because I want some kind of resolution, but because I want other fifteen and seventeen year olds to know that nothing lasts forever. Life can be brutally honest, I won’t lie, but what would life be if we weren’t challenged? If we weren’t pushed hard enough to show that we are survivors? I’m a survivor. You can be a survivor too.