DIR Return Create A Forum - Home --------------------------------------------------------- Bookaholics Anonymous HTML https://bookaholicsanonymous.createaforum.com --------------------------------------------------------- ***************************************************** DIR Return to: Aspiring Authors ***************************************************** #Post#: 79-------------------------------------------------- i won 1st place for this in my school writing contest! By: TL46 Date: June 12, 2011, 11:36 am --------------------------------------------------------- Listening Feeling like you don’t belong is one of the basic things when being a teenager, but feeling like you should not even exist in the world is something very different. There are three major steps to know that someone is being bullied. Step one, silence. They say a voice can always be heard, but that is only when it is spoken. Step two, grades slowly begin to fall. The person just stops caring about things in their life. They don’t worry about their future. Step three, death. The person thinks they have found the answer they have been searching for. My name is Amber, and this is my story, and I want someone to listen. I’m Amber Baker, I am fifteen years old and I got to Martin High School. I never really fit in in school, weather it was first grade or a freshman. I have been bullied before, since I was ten years old. It all started with some rumor that I was gay because I was in girl scouts. I don’t know how ten year olds knew what that meant, but that’s what they called me. I didn’t mind, but when you have no one to talk to for five years, it gets hard to ignore. For most of my life I went through the first step in bullying. I never spoke to other students, never raised my hand when questions were asked in class, and I never talked to my parents. People always say that there has to be someplace you can go to be happy. Mine was my room. Though, not even the walls could hide out the yelling. When I was growing up it seemed like I caused a lot of trouble for my parents. It made it hard to feel good at home when I was blamed for every yell, every crash, and everything that could go wrong. My mother would always shout at me that it was my fault. The reason my parents would get a divorce. My fault. My fault. The words would run through my head over and over again. I had a little sister, but we were just too different. She was the happy cheerleader that was loved by everyone. I was the silent weirdo that no one wanted anything to do with. She wore Hollister, and I wore my brother’s old hand-me-downs. I wasn’t the fashion type of girl. I was just me, and apparently me, wasn’t good enough. My brothers and my father were the only people I could really talk to. Except, my brothers were in their twenties and lived with their mother, and my dad had work pretty much twenty-four seven so I hardly ever get to see him. I was alone. Just me, in a world of silence. It wasn’t until High School that things got bad. A girl on my buss named Britney had always hated me and made fun of me. I normally ignored her, but that day. She sat down next to me and whispered into my ear. “You should die.” Then she picked me up and smashed my head into the window of the bus. As my face hit glass the only thing I could think of was, maybe she’s right, and when no one, not even the bus driver tried to help me, I knew Britney was right. After that I began to have strange thoughts. Like I shouldn’t be here, I don’t belong. This was what went through my mind as I entered the third step, failing grades. I just didn’t care anymore. If nothing mattered then, what would matter in the future? Nobody would ever care about me, not then, not now, not ever. So, why should I care about myself? The bullying got more intense when I became a senior. One day, five girls cornered me in the locker room and called me names of all different sorts. Ugly, fat, stupid, gay, worthless, meaningless, a nuisance for all of mankind. Then, they punched me in the stomach, the head and the chest. My body felt like it was going to fall apart from the inside out. Like I was just going to fall to the ground and stay there for the rest of my life, and in a way, I wanted to. Things like this have gone on for as long as I can remember. I was the schools punching bag, and the worst part was, I enjoyed it. I liked the fact that I was actually being acknowledged for the first time in years. That people actually knew I was alive and standing there. Even if I got a broken arm or a burn from a cigarette, I was happy to be seen. Then one day I woke up and I looked in the mirror. I had a black eye, a fat lip and cut marks on my neck from the boys that had lost their basketball game the other night. I looked at myself, but I didn’t see myself. The tears came streaming down my face as I realized I was not myself, I was not human. I was like an animal by people who didn’t care about me or even know my name, and I was letting them do it. I was letting people walk all over me and do what they wanted, but not anymore. I am writing this to let whoever reads it know; there are people like me out there. There are people that feel like they don’t belong in the world and they will do anything to feel like they do belong. Like they have and existence or some form of life. I am writing this so that people will prevent someone from reaching that third step, because I have reached that third step, now I want to ask just one question. Are you listening? i know its weird on so many levals just tell me what you guys think . *****************************************************