I’m being bullied.
It’s been going on for a while now. In fact, it’s probably started since the beginning of high school. I can barely take it; I’m losing myself to their words.
They taunt me every moment they get, calling me things like “dumbass”, “useless”, “idiot”. I can’t escape their attacks no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I begged them to stop. Sometimes they physically hurt me, leaving wounds and scars all across my legs and arms, but high up enough so I can hide them under basketball shorts or short sleeved shirts. I don’t want to worry anyone, so I tell no one. Besides, this was my own battle, and I was going to solve it eventually, so it didn’t matter if a counselor or parents got involved.
They’re getting worse though.
I can’t hang out with my friends anymore. I have to tag along with my bullies, or else they’ll end up bothering them. It’s become a habit by now, and every day after school, I end up following my bullies and they force themselves into my house, where no one’s home to see until night falls.
“Your friends don’t care about you; they don’t give a shit if you’re there or not.”
“You’re a waste of space and time. You’ll never do anything with yourself and live like a failure.”
“No one loves you. No one ever did.”
This sort of thing became a daily routine. Recently it’s been getting worse.
They laugh in my face and tell me all these remarks. I yell back at them for once, saying that they’re wrong. That people care. They look back at me with the fury of wrath on their faces.
They corner me in my room and ask me a single question.
“Then why did no one ever notice you hurting?”
I struggle to find an answer.
“I-I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
They sneer at my response, “So it’s proof that you know you’re a bother to everyone.”
Tears well up in my eyes; my mind goes into a frenzy of emotions. I try to explain to myself that I didn’t want anyone involved, that it’s my fault for not opening up enough, but everything I say contradicts my previous argument.
It’d be insane to listen to them, the people who’ve been abusing me for so long, but after a while, I began to believe it all.
I’m unneeded. I’m a bother to everyone. All I do is cause pain. I never do enough for others. I’m useless. Useless things should just be thrown away.
“That’s right, that’s right, you’re unneeded. They’ll all leave you, no one will remember you. You might as well die.”
My breathing quickens and I can hardly focus on anything, but I know what I need to do.
“Die.”
I look through my cabinets.
“Die!”
Any kind of bottle, I grab it.
“Do it, coward!”
My hands are shaking as I open the various prescription pill bottles. I gather enough different kinds in my hand.
My phone rings.
The tune of my favorite song plays and the blurring sensation I feel disappears like it never existed in the first place. I drop the pills, letting them clink and bounce into the sink of my bathroom. Nervous and afraid, I pick up the phone and greet the caller with hello.
“I saw your messages. Please tell me you didn’t do anything yet. Are you alright?”
“I’m... ” I pause and look at the pile of drugs.
Was I alright? Was I really alright with this?
My voice cracks and I choose my words carefully.
“I don’t think I am. I think I’m going insane.” Her silence prompts me to continue. “I think I just tried to kill myself.”
She speaks up, her voice trying to stay calm.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“No one will miss me.” They told me so.
“I will.”
“You’ll forget me.” They told me so.
“No one will forget you, especially if you try this sort of thing.”
“I’m useless.”
“Whoever said that?”
I look around me. No one was here.
“But, I know I am.”
“No you’re not. You’re not useless. You’re why I’m still here, too.”
I began breaking down, wailing like a child. I hiccup and babble incessantly, explaining everything I felt.
Just a little longer and they would have gotten the better of me.
--
I’m reluctant to take medication, but I need to, if I want to help myself. It’s still a work in progress, being open with others and saying what’s on my mind. My family knows everything and while some are suspicious of it, most are accepting and try their best to talk to me and help in their own way. My friends worry over my well being, even more than they’ve ever done before, which I’m grateful to have such wonderful people in my life.
Fighting these kinds of bullies can become an ongoing battle. Sometimes I can still hear them from afar, most people do, but I remind myself daily to remember that I’m loved and worth every breath I take. It’s cheesy, but it’s true.
