Those factors make me ugly. I have always had problems with people. From an early age, I learned that its not OK to be myself. My body, my face, my clothes, my words, my movements, nothing was good enough. It started off with my parents, continued with my classmates in primary school and has not stopped until now, high school. I was, am and will always be the ugly one. The stupid one. The wrong one. I am being bullied day and night, online and in person, verbally and mentally. Theres no one on my side, so its me against the world. They make up rumors, and Im the one thats in tears.
They never think of anyone else except themselves. At first, I tried to fight back, but I soon found out that only makes it worse. Any word I say, gives them something new to dupe me. So, I decided to pretend Im strong. And happy. My grades are at an all time low, but my morals are even lower. The only thing I do, is trying to make it through another day. I remember any insult that came out of their mouths, although I tried to erase them from my brain. Somehow, everyone of their twisted words manages to stay burned into my mind. Every snicker, every dirty look, every nasty word, holds a special place in my mind.
But that place is not a happy place. Its dark in there, unhappy and extremely miserable. It is kept under lock and key. You can never have your guard up all the time. You can never pretend youre always strong. You can never always pretend your life isnt crumbling around you. You can never fake true happiness. Its like walking on broken glass. By now, I am so broken down, Im losing it. I just want to disappear. I lost my will to live. To fight another day in that devastating world, is the last thing I want. I hate myself and feel incredibly stupid all the time, a feeling that never leaves me alone.
I always wake up in the same miserable life. Then back to school. When I walk down the hallway, it is always a battle with my tormentors. People I once deemed friends and people I barely know yell mean things to me, in a way everyone can hear. Everyone makes up their audience. Perfect for them. Horrible for me. Getting back home isnt any better. Its even worse. My parents, my brother, my sisters. They are meant to love me, but all they do is making me feel even more insecure. Whatever I do, its never good enough. I try so hard to satisfy them, but I never succeed. Its wearing me out.
No one ever knows how miserably I really feel. I hate looking in the mirror. I hate what I see. I hate the sound of my own voice. I never before experienced a group of people trying so hard, to be so mean. To a girl. A girl like me. A girl like me should be loved. Most girls are. But somehow, that just isnt for me. Im not cut out for this thing called life. At first, I deemed it bad luck. Now I know better. It is my own fault, I am the ugly one. The stupid one. The wrong one. So, today, I took a pocket knife and I did it. I deserved it. In a way, it was relieving too.
For a little ten seconds, I just stared at the blood running down my arm, on my hand, to my fingers and dripping off their tips. Fascinating. For that little ten seconds, I didnt feel anything. I just loved to see the blood running down and down, to eventually leave my hand via my finger tips. It was like my misery ran down with the blood. What a disappointment after my ten seconds. Id have loved to stay like that forever. But I needed to get back to real life, just like waking up every morning. Somehow, there must be a way to be in my own ten seconds forever. They wouldnt care anyway.