Be the Change


1. Bullying


I don’t understand whypeople think they can judge you. People who couldn’t walk a mile in your shoes, think they can treat you like crap, one glance and they believe they know everything about you. They don’t know you, and despite what they may think, they don’t know you, they’re not perfect. I didn’t think this way until it was just too late

She wasn’t my friend, matter a fact I hardly knew her, but I do know her name was Mila Black. I know that she is dead. They didn’t think Mila fit the image society has sewn into our brains, that perfect size freaking 0 super model alien thing that is completely unrealistic.Extra small, and extra large was acceptable in their eyes. Mila didn’t fit that image, so they attacked her. It started verbal, “fat, ugly, obese” They were hate filled words, but Mila didn’t flinch, and she never stumbled, at least not around them. She just took the verbal beating like she deserved it, like she’d done something wrong. I stood by and watched, I never spoke up. I thought that old saying, “Sticks and stones my bones but words will never hurt me” would be Mila’s armor, her protection, but those words did hurt her. Mila looked in the mirror, but saw something ugly. She told herself she wasn’t good enough because they said she wasn’t. She threw up her sorrow, but she always had more to lose.

 As if verbally destroying her wasn’t bad enough, they add physical abuse to the mixture. Hair pulling, shoving, pushing...they had no mercy, and neither did I. When she bled I watched I didn’t help her up, I only help knock her down. She got closer to the edge, and nobody would catch her.

 Mila must’ve hated us, how she not? We are her bullies. We took her out, we’re the cruel tyrants, and she the innocent victim of our ambush. When it’s all over, a 15 year old girl is buried, the guilt and shame devours us alive. We cry for a girl, that we didn’t care about, do we even have that cry for her? Isn’t that twisted? I wonder what she thinks, how she felt, how she feels wherever she may be. It’s pretty awful knowing, I could have helped her, I could stop her...I could have caught her. 15 year old girls aren’t supposed to die, and they aren’t supposed to jump off bridges and slit their wrists and starve themselves. I finally see now, my eyes are finally opened. I’ve laid down my swords, I will make this be the start of something good. Mila woke me up, and I’m so sorry her death was my alarm. Life is precious, but death is permanent, it can’t be reversed, what happened to my classmate will never be erased. It won’t happen again, now love is our weapon so let’s use it.

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