First of all, I want to say "how dare you." How dare you make me feel like a lesser being just because I didn't fit your image of what a person should be. How dare you decide that at age 8, I was enough of a threat that you should start harassing me; that by age 11 you had the right to call me "dyke" and "bimbo" not even knowing the charge that those words hold; that by age 13 I must be a "slut" because I developed faster than other girls; that by age 15, you had tormented some of us to the point that we thought we were the problem and not you.

You may not know it, and may not care, but at the age of 9, I was "sick" just so I didn't have to see you in the same classroom. The teachers did little to nothing, no one seemed to care, and when I would stand up for myself, I was the one that got scolded. You thought it was so funny when I hit a locker in middle school, but I wished it had been you. Maybe that makes me the bully. I just wanted you to shut up and leave me alone for a day; just one. You never did. Once 8th grade started, I used excuses like it was "that time of the month" so I didn't have to change out in gym. I decided that it was a fool-proof solution so that you couldn't pick on me for being fat. I skipped so many meals to satisfy the part of me that thought you were right about that. I hated myself and my body so much.

By High School, I was a lot like the wall in my cover picture. I was broken, cracked by every single metaphorical kick you sent my way. I stopped crying in school because people went along with your teasing. "Stop being such a crybaby," they would tell me. Well, I did, and instead of releasing my emotions, I became angry, volatile, and ready to snap at the drop of a hat. I stuck to myself mostly, and kept very few friends. I read in the library at lunch a lot of days because the librarian let me be myself and the books couldn't hurt me. In fact, they let me travel the world, even fictional ones, and gave me the solace of escaping not only you, but my own thoughts as well. I still blew up on a few occasions, and I feel like it was a miracle that I survived high school without a single suspension just because of my reactions to the crap you put me through.

However, the day that sticks out in my mind the most, of all these events, is the day that you told me to do everyone a favor and kill myself. "No one would care," you taunted. Plenty of kids agreed with you, by the way; getting the nerd out of the way so she wouldn't ruin your grades. You probably new that, though. Maybe it sticks out because of how cold your words were, but I think it's bigger than that. I think they stand out, because I'm still here.

So, thank you. Not for being so horrible to me, but for showing me what it looks like so that I can defend the kids I work with. Thank you for being a living example of what I don't want anyone I mentor to become. Thank you for opening and reopening so many mental wounds daily that I can now work to heal those same wounds in others.

Your tactics of tearing me down to build me in your image never worked. You see, cracks in a wall may make it weaker, but the cracks in a mosaic make it a beautiful piece of work. I am stronger than I've ever been, and I will use that strength to pull other kids like me out of the muck that kids like you throw them in.

Signed,

Broken but Beautiful