“You look really fat in that.” “You're my best friend!'” Both of those quotes were said by the same girl, my "best friend," in eighth grade. I've always been very trusting and loving so it's very easy for someone like her to come into my life. Someone like her to make me think she was doing what was best for me. Someone who would put me down, make me feel stupid, and would mess with my mind. I didn't realize this was abuse until after high school. I thought abuse could only happen with a girlfriend or boyfriend. I thought abuse could only be physical. I thought so many things about abuse that I know now are lies. Abuse doesn't have to be physical, it doesn't have to by the person you're dating, and it doesn't matter how old you are.

I moved to Las Vegas when I was 12 years old. I was in culture shock to be completely honest. My hometown was very small; generally everyone was friends with everyone in my middle school. The most expensive things girls wore to school was Abercrombie and Fitch; I had never even heard of Hollister. There were no trees, the streets were huge, there were lights everywhere I looked, so much was different and while I loved it, it made it easy to be scooped up and molded. That's exactly what happened when I walked into gym class, still with very few friends, and a girl was talking about how Justin Bieber was coming to Vegas. I started talking with her and then we realized that we had a few other classes together. Her name was Jessica and after that we were inseparable. She was always at my house, we spent all our time at school together, we had a notebook we'd pass back and forth to write in for when we wouldn't be together; we were pretty much sisters. She showed me what kids here wore, where they hung out, what they ate, and I felt like I belonged. Only for a time, because after about two months of us being best friends she'd make back-handed compliments. “Wow that shirt looks 100 times better on you than all your shirts. You should only get that size so you don't look so fat.” “What'd you use on your hair? It doesn't look nearly as greasy as normal.” I'd try to brush them off,but they hurt a lot.

When I didn't do what she wanted, she got really rude and mean about it. I showed up to school one day in a Hollister shirt that I wore all the time and some jeans. The jeans were a little tight because they were freshly washed but by the end of the school day they'd be lose on me. I walked up to her in the courtyard which is where we hung out until the staff opened the doors to let us in to the hallways. She looked at me up and down than pulled me by my arm away from our other friend, Brittney. “Lexy, what size shirt are you wearing?” She asked me. “A medium like I always do?” I told her, insanely confused. She still had a grip on my arm which she than started to make tighter. “What did I tell you about wearing a medium? You're not a medium. I am. There is no way we're the same size. You need a large or maybe you're just too fat to fit into Hollister all together.” She let go of my arm and walked back over to Brittney just as the doors were opening. I just stood shocked, hurt, and feeling sick. I didn't go to homeroom that day. I ran to the bathroom and cried until first period. I deleted the message saying I had missed homeroom before my mom could hear it.

At lunch, I would be eating my peanut butter sandwich and Jessica would look at me so I'd ask her what was wrong. “Nothing. I just can't believe you're going to eat all of it that's all.” She'd tell me. Soon I learned to eat half my sandwich and throw the rest away. That still wasn't good enough. Not for her. After about half a year of knowing her I became bulimic. Sometimes I would hide it from my mom, other times I would fake the flu. I just told my mom about it two years ago. I kept that secret from her and everyone else for five years. Jessica messed me up mentally. She had me thinking I was ugly, worthless, fat, someone no one would love, and trash. One day she told about a conversation she had with our friend, Ashley. “Ashely asked me why I still hang out with you today,” she told me “And I honestly didn't know. Like I didn't have an answer for her.” Our "friendship" ended when she we went to different high schools. I made new friends at Liberty; ones who were nice and loved me for me. My friend, Bridgette, got me to stop being bulimic and even showed me how to work out.

I joined theatre, which is where I found my second home and family. I started to distance myself from her and she didn't like that. One day my phone completely quit working and one of my friends told me Jessica was posting all kinds of stuff on Facebook and Twitter about me without saying my name. She called me ugly, fat, a grenade (the ugly girl in the group), a bitch, two-faced, and so many other names. Bridgette ended up coming over that day for a sleepover so I borrowed her phone to text her. After a long talk once I got home with her, we were okay. She tried to talk to me and become friends again but Bridgette wouldn't let me, which I am so thankful for. Bridgette and I are still really close friends and I'm so happy she came into my life.

I got through that "friendship": with the help of some true friends. Without Bridgette stepping in and showing me what a real friend was I don't know what would've happened to me. Without Jenessa and Sharmaine coming into my life, showing me how to love myself I don't know if I would be as confident as I am today. Without Elijah coming into my life and showing me what a real gentleman is I wouldn't have the standards I have now for boys. Without Nick, Ray, Chris, Matt, Courtney (my best friends), I don't know who I'd be. So the next time someone is rude to you but makes up for it with sweet moments you should ask yourself some questions. How often does this happen? Is it worth putting up with? Does the person doing it actually make you happy? You have the right to be healthy, happy, confident, and loved.