“I’m afraid. I don’t want to continue. Help me.”
Walking down the school, people looking at you that’s frightening already. Yet, what if each step contains a burning wave of laughter and a demolishing stab in what we call “self love.”
Growing up constantly being teased and laughed at. Never truly realizing what happened until the moment I had to hide bruises from the kicks that would mark my skin. Stronger boys made self defense useless. I cried uncontrollably believing ‘it’s nothing’. Those became my restless nights.
Time passed, yet things did not get better but worse. Walking to school in my drunk fathers company wasn’t a shock for me, till someone pointed it out. Unwelcomed, shame walked into my life. Torn apart by other’s awareness that my father was alcoholic. Memories of taking him to the hospital, of everyone on their knees crying, overwhelmed me. What was next?
Too soon, kids began to judge my appearance. They laughed at my outfits my mother would pick out for me, while throwing rocks at me, claiming how pathetic I looked. Teachers would send me to the corner because I laughed loud, looking at me with eyes that made me question if I was as horrible as they believed.
Middle school became bearable. Yet, once again I spoke too soon. By accident I hit one of the guys. I trembled, furiously when he grabbed something and threw it at me. Everyone, wide eyed looked at me as I tried not to cry.
Later on, sitting on my bed thinking about what girls said; how nobody wanted me, I would end up alone, I needed to lose weight, and how annoying I was, it all became a habit. Tears, would stream down my eyes taking away the air with each and every one of them. Grabbing onto the bed sheets, I would plead in a whisper for help, just to be disappointed by the answer I would receive from my tears and my unheard scream. I was afraid.
Eventually blackmail arose, along came with it various of other issues. Depression was at my door, laughing at my misery, each day dragging me down onto the depths of hell. With every night on my room’s floor, depression would choke me, sadly it never came alone. Anxiety grabbed my hands, shaking them while rocking me in an attempt to burry my nails into my skin. Frightened and alone, what else could I do? My dreams of a future shattered into a blade that I so longed to cross along my skin.
Pushed against the lockers, burning with the laughter I have always heard. I lost sight of the ray of hope in front of me. ‘Ugly’ became my new name. This was not a nightmare nor a daydream, but
my way of life.
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