Reflection From a Self-Proclaimed Tortured Writer

     I have been avoiding it for a while now. In fact, I try and keep the memory tucked away so no one can see the pain in my eyes anymore. I'm actually tearing up a bit writing this, just trying to remember what made me who I am today. It was an experience I will carry with me throughout the rest of my life and I swear that on my deathbed, before the last ounce of life escapes from my body, I will cry because I will remember. I have tried to talk about it before but everyone seems to think it's stupid and I should just put it behind me. Now, before I forget the truth, I feel as if I should share the story with the world one last time.

     It was the 6th grade and I was in a time where I was feeling so alone in the world. I felt like even though there was an overcrowded lunch table, I was left in my lonesome in my little corner of the conversation. During gym class, a girl I will call "Diana" flat-out hit me. My daddy always said that if someone hits you it is not snitching, it is standing up for yourself, so that's what I did. I went to Guidance to look for the guidance counselor who helped me with a previous bullying problem. She was absent so I was forced to, in hysterics, talk to a counselor who did not know me or anything about my problem in 4th grade. Since I had so many problems in 4th grade, I was pretty shaken up when a girl had no problem laying a hand on me. Perhaps the whole ordeal was an overreaction due to my previous experiences. Anyway, the counselor suggested I bring in Diana to talk in a group, so I pulled myself together, went out to recess, and tried to persuade Diana into coming. There I was, a shy girl trying to face her bully because the guidance counselor didn't understand how I did not know what I was supposed to do. Diana kept insisting that she did nothing wrong and that I was being an idiot. Eventually, we went to the office and Diana talked and talked to try and prove her innocence. I did not get one single word in. The counselor wrapped everything up instantly, believing Diana's every word. What the counselor said still echoes in my mind whenever I think about talking to an adult whenever someone calls me a name. She said, "You girls just seem like close friends having an argument." Diana smiled sweetly and I tried hard to fight back more tears. It took so much for me just to tell someone about her hitting me, and in the end nothing happened. She was definitely not my friend.

     That story was not why I'm scarred, though. About a week later, after I thought it was about time to forget, the worst happened. This time it was a slap in the face emotionally. I was eating lunch, and first, Diana took my sandwich. I closed my eyes really tight and clenched my fists, hoping it was all just a bad dream. She saw me and gave it back. I thought, "Maybe she does have a heart after all." Unfortunately, I was wrong. After all the girls in our little lunch table group came back from the lunch line, we began telling stories. The story of the day came from Diana. She started giggling to lighten the mood, and that is when she relayed our whole Guidance conflict- the entire story as a comedy. Everyone was laughing and I could feel my face becoming hotter, my eyes welling up with tears. One girl's laugh was horrible, loud, and every time I hear it at school, I still cringe. A girl at our table who had contributed to group bullying me in 4th grade had seen me cry before. She asked, still laughing, "Are you crying, Sarah?" I simply did a fake chuckle and said through my tears, "I'm laughing so hard I'm crying." I find myself often asking myself: why did I chose these heartless girl to sit with in the first place?

     You can sit there and think what happened to me makes me seem like a wimp. I don't care, at least I said something now, instead of never. The worst part of it is, I forgave Diana. She suddenly became nicer these last two years. But, every time she gets angry, I relive the pain I felt for months after I was bullied like that. I never forgave the girl with the horrible laugh though, because she is still cold-hearted, snobby, and her voice gives me shivers down my spine. If she's reading this, please don't hate me for telling the world about you. Hate yourself, because I want you to know that in even my sweetest dreams, as I start to wake up, I hear your laugh- it haunts me even though it's two years later. 

    Why did it affect me so much, the bullying? For weeks on end after I had the first of many experiences with Diana, I had trouble sleeping, and my eyes were always puffy from crying myself to sleep if I was able to get a few hours in. For the first time in my life, my heart physically hurt, and my body felt drained of emotion sometimes. I never felt more hopeless, and even depressed. More than once I fought with my mom over ridiculous things without even knowing why. Now I wonder if it was because I just wanted to feel something again, even if that emotion had to be anger. Sometimes I questioned if I would ever be happy again. That was when I started writing. I wrote of the things that made me smile; the things that made me inspired. Then again, when I wrote my first novelette, entitiled Leaves, I used my own pain and suffering to describe what the main character, Everleigh, feels when the boy she thought she loved passes away at an early age. “There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.” ~ Maya Angelou. On the other hand, I also started drawing imaginary family trees and imagined stories for each one, so I could teach myself to think of something creative at a moments notice. At the same time, I started to try to find good qualities in people- what made each individual unique. For the first time, I formed my own opinions on controversial topics and made up my own theories about life. I was truly inspired; I still am. Even though I will never forget the feeling my heart endured at that time, I have proven to myself that a girl who doesn't like change can become the person that they are today through the very change she still despises.




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What I am currently reading: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne
In other news: I have decided from now on, after every blog post, I will have two little, extra sections (after the jump if the post is too long). They are "What I am currently reading" and "In other news". Also, I have decided to put a button at the bottom of each post so you can now email a post to your friend if you do not belong to any social media sites.