The Other Side

Its a story about a girls suicide and it includes the point of view of the bullier and the bullied. It is fiction, but could very well be true.


1. Letting Go

I tell myself it won’t hurt.  That it would be far less painful than the things I have been through.  A short sharp pain, I tell myself, to stop an endless torture.  I tell myself that it would be better for me on the other side – and that I am not, and never was, needed on this side - this awful, humiliating, painful side - but one that I can escape from, with just one leap.  I tell myself this is the best way – better for everyone.  I know people will wonder how it started for it to end like this. 

So I go over the story in my mind – the story I have never told, and one that now, after this leap, would never be told – well not truthfully anyway.

It started in my first year of high school – the year that I had wrongfully been looking forward to.  It started out with the little comments.  The ones that stung but I told myself would heal - it’s only a little wound.  I told myself that it doesn’t matter if other people think you are fat and ugly, because you know you are beautiful.

I didn’t realise that as each cruel torturing word was said – it was making a bigger wound – and one that may never heal. 

But soon it wasn’t words they were using.  They had targeted me, without me even realising, as the girl who was an easy aim.  The bruises were easily covered up – but my mom noticed that something was wrong.  She noticed that smile of mine wasn’t coming out as often.  She noticed that I had been eating less and that my used-to-be rosy cheeks were now hollow with depression.  But it didn’t matter how much she tried to open me up – I had locked myself in a secure cage.

That is when I started to realise that lately not only have the stings caused a wound - but the venom had gone straight to my heart and that, without realising, I had started to believe the words that were thrown at me.

I found myself struggling in class – being distracted by the looks of the torturers – the looks I had come to know to mean pain.  And suddenly – it was too much pain. 

I realised that it was time to give up – it’s time to go, because nothing matters anymore.  My world is dark and I couldn’t do anything to change it.  My fate had been turned over to my peers and they had decided it for me with each punch they had ever thrown at me.

And after a day of failing tests, insults and a lot bruising, I gave up.  I realised the words that I had been waiting for were finally here. 

Just Give Up.

And so, with those 3 words, and my tears colliding with my grave below me, I gave up.


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