The Struggle

I wasn’t good enough. Nothing has changed. The names they called me, hit me like being slapped. The feeling in my stomach when walking into class, like a knife twisting itself round and round until the pain became so unbearable. Their whispers were so loud, it’s like they wanted the world to know.
Having nowhere to hide but behind that smile. I wish they knew. How bad it was. It drove me away, from home, from school, from life. I wasn’t perfect, but I was a target. Bullying.
The teachers were so blind, they couldn’t see me suffering. Constantly giving signs, looks, that were wasted. If they noticed, could it have helped? No. Teachers think they help, when they make it worse.
I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to get away. How? Skive? No! How could I? But seeing those kids approach me with smug smiles, packed with insults and things to throw. I turned away, and ran. Away from everything. Thinking it was for the best.

I made a mistake.

Forgive me? I understand if you don’t. But please, understand. It was hard, and still is. Don’t judge me. I beg. I want to be free.
I grabbed my sharpener. Un-screwed the blades. Hid one in one pocket, and one in the other. I took the blade and scored my arm. The pain, felt so good. Like all my worries poured out of me through that cut. It wasn’t enough though. I made two more cuts. No, more. Altogether, 8 cuts.
The scars reminded me of freedom, and escape. When no-one was there, my blade was. He was my friend. And made me feel better.
It was wrong though. They reminded me of the past. Which I was meant to leave behind. So I thought. And thought. And thought.

And decided, ‘I don’t need this’. I threw my blade in the river and watched it carry my worries away with the current. Looked up at the stars, and wished. For a second chance.
And was given it. I walked into school, smiled at the bullies, the people I used to call my friends, at myself. I knew I had done it. I saw the light. My chance was working.
I attended every class, and took in all the information I could. And came out strong with my head held-high. With good grades. I knew I could do it.
Every day I fight, for myself. I have no friends left. But I'm not ready for any. I need to be able to trust. I stand alone.
To this day, it’s still hard. I want to run away again, the bullying hasn’t stopped, but is slowly fading. I hope. Makes me stronger knowing there’s always a way out.

I am stronger than you think. I was put through so much, to come out alive. I smile at myself knowing I’m so happy, being me. People say I’ve changed, but they’re wrong. I grew up.
I have my future planned, organised. Try and stop me now. I’m not scared anymore. Judge me, and I’ll prove you wrong.

It takes nothing to join a crowd, but everything to stand alone.