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       #Post#: 79--------------------------------------------------
       i won 1st place for this in my school writing contest!
       By: TL46 Date: June 12, 2011, 11:36 am
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       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 .
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