Re: Bullying

[laddybug3]

It was weird, when the bullies stopped bullying me. The first day in high school, was strange, no one bullied me. I remembering thinking it was test to see if I what I would do. My best friend ended our friendship a few months later, after she meant some kids that bullied me in grade school.

Joined many clubs, and was shocked when three people asked me to hang out with them. I had no idea what to do. So I nodded, got their cell phone, called it, and it was really their phone number. Soon I had three different groups and two of the groups didn’t get along with each other.

A teacher even pulled me a side, and said, “You are a nice girl, but you shouldn’t be their friends. They don’t suit you.”

I looked at the teacher and told her, “They are my friends. My friends, my friends, I don’t have many of them. Sure they beat up kids and I don’t approve of that, but I am not getting beat up, and no one has screamed at me, called me fag it, Lauren germs, and I am not going back there. Did I do anything wrong?”

A few days later, I am sent down to the social worker and joined a group. Many of whom, were in the groups that didn’t get along. I was moved from there to friendship building. Mostly, just wanting to run and hide again, but no one really knew that. Then suicide attempts happened. The social worker worked more on friendship.

Lunch time was strange. I hopped from table to table. There was about four tables a lunch period, not to mention my time spent in a classroom meant for my “problem friends,” as so teachers called them. I had a table actually nick named the “misfits table.” There was no bullying there and anyone could join us.

A peer came by the “misfits table,” and stated, “I somehow made it work and that I was popular.”

Unable to hold it in any more, I ran to the library and hid there. That commit scared me, because my view of popular were the kids that made fun of me. Memories came hunting back and I read the two poets that helped me through the bullying of my past: Walt Whitman and Emily Dickson.

One time to two groups told me not to talk them anymore. I listened and one girl who was in one of the groups was told the same thing. I handle well, thinking that I did this somehow and that I deserved this. The other girl was so angry, hurt, upset that she dragged me to the consoling center and demanded to talk to a social worker right away. I just wanted to get the heck out of there, talking about these things only made matters worse. We saw a social worker right away. I was just glad it wasn’t the social worker I saw normally, because we would talk about this, and I didn’t talked about it. I was in a strange good place. It ended up the usual, we should not be hanging out with them, and the stuff that made me feel like reading my two poets that made me feel better.

I was never bullied the way I was from 4th to 8th grade. I don’t hang out with any of my high school friends. Although they call me to bail them out of jail, so me their debt, and call me when they need something.

I made friends I think for life, but I am not sure. One of my friends states that bullying kids is what kids do. She never was bullied herself, or has no idea what she did was wrong. So, I go back and read my favorite poets, something my sixth grade teacher told me to do. Six grade was when the teacher finally decided to help with bullying. My teacher let me do milk, even though she wanted the other kids to do milk. Milk, was when you carried the bins from the two lunch periods at school. Both six grade teachers were awesome and they were hands on too.

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