Dear Bully or rather Bullies,

You probably don't remember me, but I sure do remember you. I was your victim for years. It wasn't just one bully though, there were many of you throughout my life. There are days when I'm sitting quiet that I think about all the names you called me and how much they still impact my life.

When I was in elementary school, you made me cry. I remember crying a lot after school. My great grandmother would get on the bus sometimes to scold everyone for bullying me. Even if it was just you and your group of friends. The names hurt the most at this time. Beaver, Buck-face, He-She, It. Those names haunted and still haunt me today.

In middle school, it didn't matter what it was, you still made fun of me. I moved around a lot so I went to four different middle schools and still couldn't get away from bullying. My clothes I wore were always baggy because I was so self conscious about my looks that I couldn't stand wearing anything that was tight enough to show my figure. I kept to myself most of the time because of you. You were the reason I didn't reach out to make a lot of friends. I didn't want to have more people to bully me. So I only had a few friends.

You made me feel like I deserved to be bullied. I tried to stand up to you, but you knocked my feet out from under me every time.

Towards the end of eighth grade, I finally started wearing less baggy clothes and more clothes that fit me. I got braces and glasses. Oh boy, that gave you something else to tease me for. I still felt self conscious about everything. And I kept to myself to protect myself from you. But I was starting to feel better since the braces were correcting my teeth and I could see better with glasses.

High school was just as bad at the beginning. At first it was the same, but when everyone either had braces or glasses, it made it harder for you to hurt me. I started to ignore you. Or at least make it look like it didn't bother me. I still went home and cried into my pillow. I tried keeping a diary too, so I didn't keep my feelings bottled up. It was just a reminder of what happened and it would just make me cry again or I would throw it away so I wouldn't have to read it over and over again.

Yet, I kept working on myself. I even started wearing makeup to look pretty. I would always think about what others thought about clothes. If I knew that I would be bullied for an outfit, I wouldn't wear it or buy it. I cared what others thought of me before I cared about what I thought about myself. My confidence was nonexistent for awhile.

It took two years for me to feel even the slightest confident in myself about how I looked. I was in a better place. I actually started to really ignore you and be myself. Or rather the self I created to accept myself. I held in the pain, trying to move on.

My junior year, I moved again after being with the same people for three years. I had to start over twice within a year when I moved again in my senior year. Starting over like that caused me to backslide with myself because of my fear of bullies, the fear of having you looking over my shoulder.

Senior year was hard at a new school. I somehow ended up with you basically breathing down my neck. But I guess you could say I had a wake up call that year.

I sat beside two popular girls in Economics class. They would talk to me a little bit about their issues with boyfriends or classes. I would help by letting them vent or look at my notes if they needed too. I was struggling for graduation, afraid of buying a dress and how I would look. Two weeks before graduation, one of the girls volunteered to do my hair. So we went to her mom's hair salon and she dyed my hair for me. And while she did that, the other girl went out and bought me makeup. They showed me how to do it the right way and everything. I started crying. I asked why they were doing this? I mean, I thought no one ever did anything like this without wanting something out of it. And this is what they told me.

"You are the sweetest girl we know. You were there for us in class whenever we asked. And You deserve to feel pretty. You deserve to have this. If anyone deserved it, it would be you."

I only heard these kind of things from family before. So it was mind blowing for me to hear them come out of the mouths of two popular girls. It is amazing how those words changed me that day.

I was able to push you out. You were only a memory. You are only a memory. You can't hurt me anymore. It doesn't matter what you think of me anymore. What matters is what I think of myself and who I am.

Yes, I still think about it. It is like a broken bone, I am healed with a scar and it only aches when it rains. I think about what I would say to you today if I saw you on the street and this letter is exactly what I would tell you.

I am happy now. I am who I always wanted to be and you have nothing to do with it. I am no longer your victim. Thanks for nothing!

Goodbye forever,

Your No Longer Victim