3. 6th Grade..
Well, hi. Sixth grade was the worst of them all. Liza didn't care if teachers saw anymore. All she did was make fun of my clothes, shoes, hair, and anything she can to make me feel like crap. Just because I didn't have designer clothes like her. She made me feel like I was worthless, like I would be better off dead. Why does she hurt me all these years? What did I do? God, please help me. No, God won't help me. I've been praying for it to stop ever since first grade, but it never did. So I'm done praying. Here goes.
I was in lunch trying to finish my homework when Liza came over to my table and grabbed my homework. "Liza, no!" I yelled. "Oh look, He talks!" She laughed. "Please give it back." I pleaded. "Sure, I'll give it back." She ripped up my paper then threw it at me. I just stood there, completely still, until she left. When she did, I picked up the pieces of the paper and hopefully the teacher will believe me. I was finally going to snitch on her. I went to my teacher, Mrs. Garcy, and showed the paper, telling her what happened. "Oh honey, are you sure Liza did this?" She asked. "Yes, she's been bullying me for years now. Can't you do something to make it stop?" I asked. "Okay, I'll talk to the principal and have a meeting with her." She said. After I told her about Liza, we went to math class. Liza wasn't in class, so I guess this was the time where the principal was talking to her.
A day after, I was at my locker when Liza came over. "You told on me?" She asked. I couldn't reply. My mouth was so dry. I couldn't reply to her. "Hello?! Is anyone in there?! Great! He's a loser and stupid." She yelled. Her friends were laughing at all of her comments. I was still standing there. Not sure what to do. Why was she still here? Why is she still bullying me? I thought the principal was going to make her stop. She was still glaring at me with so much hate, like she wants to kill me. "Are you just going to stand there and look dumb or are you going to answer me?" She asked. "Huh?" I whispered. "Did. You. Tell. On. Me?" She spoke slowly as if I was actually stupid. I felt so humiliated. I couldn't take it anymore. I hate this school. I hate her. I hate myself. "You wouldn't stop bullying me so I had to do something about it. I'm sorry." I whispered again. "Whatever. Just watch yourself, little boy." She threatened.
I got home and put on a smile so my mom didn't think anything of it, She went for work and I went for the bathroom. I grabbed my blade from my sharpener and started cutting until I saw red.
~~"How does someone so perfect,
Feel so insecure?
As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more...
How does someone so loving,
Learn to hate her own guts?
Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade
As if her mind isn't dark enough"~~