I am tired of the bumps in the hallway. Names imprinted on my locker. My stuff misplaced or damaged. And for what reason did I do to deserve it? Oh I know the reason, I just choose to ignore it. I choose to wake up everyday with great strength to ignore people and their mouths.The mouths are dangerous. Words filled with acid on the intent to hurt me come out. It repeats nonstop. Again what did I do to deserve this? Oh I know - I liked the wrong guy.
I should have listened to my friends. Then again, where were my friends when I was being targeted? I guess they were nowhere to be found. How convenient. I am alone and I have no one to blame but myself. Why did I bother to look up when he was with her? Could she tell I wanted him just from reading my face? It must have been obvious if she hates me so much. Still, why can't she leave me alone?
I get it. Nobody would ever like a fat girl. Nobody would like my brown skin. Nobody would like me for me. I am nobody. Yet, why continue to pick on a nobody? I'm so tired.
The day is almost over. I have to hurry before they catch up to me. Please don’t find me. I repeat the chant as I walk to the exit. Please don’t find me. Someone yanks me and pushes me against the locker. Oh no, Jessica found me.
“Where you going slut?”
I mumbled, “Home.”
She responds “What? I can’t hear you bitch.”
She draws attention from all my peers. Jessica mushes me on the head and I do nothing. Nothing at all as she makes jokes and everyone around laughs. Nobody helps me. Stupid of me to think anyone would help.
Jessica says, “Why don’t you kill yourself? You’re so ugly. Your mom must be embarrassed to give birth to you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and ask, “ Please let me go.”
Jessica's pretty face turn sorrow as she put pressure on my throat “Don’t tell me what to do. I can keep doing this until you finish the job.”
I will, I thought silently. She spits on me. I take it like a weak person. Her evil laugh was the only sound I hear replayed in my mind as I run straight home.
I have to stop the pain. The bottle in my hand feels heavy. A constant reminder for what I should do. Should I listen to the people who call me names? Why not? I hear it so much I believe it to be true. But I can't open the bottle. The Lid is sealed tight or am I making an excuse for my weakness. "Fat Slut." "Die." "Bitch."
The cycle never ends. I can't make the voice in my head stop. I can't eat or sleep. My life. I don't want it anymore. Every breath I take is painful. I'm done fighting.
