When I moved from a suburban area on the outskirts of a very urban area to a suburban area next to a very rural area, life changed for me a lot. The first thing I noticed on my first day at my new school was that the other sixth grade girls dressed a lot differently. First off, they wore flip flops and pretty sandals to school, which were against the dress code in my old school. Second, they wore short shorts and tops from places like Rue 21, Aeropostale, and Hollister. On that first day, I was wearing a purple butterfly shirt and Bermuda shorts from the Gap and light green Nike Shox. I also had brown, thick rimmed glasses. I either wore my long brown hair with a middle part or half up and half down.

I became an instant target for bullying. If it wasn't about my clothes or face, it was about being a "nerd" or a "teachers pet." Years later, I read a book that said you should never show up a whole class on your first day. Wish I'd had that advice in 2007. Even though it was everyone's first day of sixth grade, I was already ahead of their curriculum. That didn't help my situation.

I was called other mean names - "moron" is one that still rings in my ears, and was also tripped in the hallway and threatened with public humiliation if I didn't take on my bullies social studies homework on top of my own.

That all started in August 2007. It took me until March 2008 to say something. Something put me over the edge, and I marched in the counselors office and spilled the beans.

But the lasting effects of being tortured for so long have clung to me like bad perfume for the near-decade it's been since those dark days.

I have this constant fear of being ridiculed and a feverish need for acceptance. There's always a nagging part of me that says "that was a stupid comment" or "stop fidgeting, you freak!" The voices that once made fun of me are now permanent fixtures in my brain. I can't go anywhere or do anything without them. No matter how confident my outfit or hair and makeup makes me feel, if I make one tiny mistake, I fall back into the broken pieces of the little girl I once was.

So this is for anyone who ever bullied someone: you may think what you said to that girl way back when was just in good fun, but it was actually in bad taste.

For anyone who has ever been bullied: this is to make you aware that you are not alone. It may seem like it's been forever and you should be "over it" but it's OK if you never get "over it."

Time passes. Life goes on. But still some scars remain. But we must remember that they are merely roadmaps of where have been and where we have yet to go.