It's April. I am about to finish my first year at Michigan State University, a place where I love in a program that is everything I wanted it to be. I have amazing friends, a place where I belong, and a support system of professors, advisors, friends, and family who keep me going each and every day. The depression I felt in High School is still there, but manageable and doesn't impact my life in the way it used to. For once in my life, I feel free. I feel happy.

And then it all came crashing down.

Sure, I made a lot of mistakes in High School. I was friends with the wrong people, hurt some of them along the way, and moved on. I always apologized like my mother taught me and wished those who used to be my friend the best in their life, knowing I would not be in it. I was okay with that. I had always hoped that they would be mature enough to do the same.

Here I am. It's April and I'm about to finish my freshman year of college. I am catching myself crying because the people who tormented me in High School have somehow met people in my wonderful program, and a bond over hatred of me has grown between them. I'm not mad. I love when people find new friendships. I am happy that those who I used to be friends with are meeting people who they enjoy being around.

I am not crying because my old friends made new friends. I am crying because I no longer feel free.

Anxiety is a crazy thing, right? That knot in your throat that can come when you're terrified to make a choice or say something. It took me almost a year to accept that I am not what those who don't like me say I am. I am strong, I am honest, I am smart, and I am worthy of a positive life. It took nearly a year to get there, but I did.

So, why does all of this still even matter, right? Why am I crying over the people who don't impact my day to day life? I wish I could answer this question.

As I studied one night, this new student in my program chose to send photos of me to the girls who hate me accusing me of saying things that were never said. To put it bluntly, I am disgusted. I later find out that there is a group chat where these people are declaring their hatred for me and sharing lies about me. Ultimately, I feel betrayed by those who are in my safe space - college. I feel like I am a scared, 16 year old girl again who can no longer feel like things will work out. I am terrified that I am going to feel the self-hate I used to due to the amount of hate I received in High School.

To those who have been bullied in High School and are now struggling to find your self worth later on, it's a journey. You're going to be thrown back and it will always hurt. Just remember, you are constantly growing. You are a lotus, growing out of the mud into a beautiful human being. You are not your past, you are not your mistakes.

To those who choose to pick apart my entire life, I hope you know that you're wasting your life CHOOSING to be negative. Whatever is your justification, I hope someday you realize how much harm you have done to someone's mental health and that you regret all of the immature actions you have done. The best part about time is that it can heal wounds if you let it. You can grow, you don't have to be bitter.

Sometimes it feels like High School never ends - that all of the events that have taken place will forever haunt me and I will never be able to escape the person I was and the people I spent time with. In my opinion, you can grow. You are not who you were at 16. That growth is a choice. Please make the right choice.

Finally, thank you to the friends who taught me what love and mutual respect is. Thank you to the people who have done nothing but care for me. Thank you to the friends who taught me what a healthy relationship is and thank you to the one's who moved on from the unhealthy ones.