Login with:

Facebook

Twitter

Tumblr

Google

Yahoo

Aol.

Mibba

Your info will not be visible on the site. After logging in for the first time you'll be able to choose your display name.

Story of My Life

Bullies

Small children shouldn't hate themselves. It's not right. Five year olds are supposed to be happy.

Well, when I was five, I wasn't exactly happy. I was bullied.

There were many reasons as to why I was (and still am) bullied. Firstly, there's the fact that my last name is similar to a food, Berger.

Whoever decided Berger is a good last name better be in hell right about now, because if I hear one more, "Do you come with fries on the side, Berger?" I'm going to lose it.

Also, I didn't exactly realize that not everyone could see dead people as a kid. I could see spirits, feel everyone else's emotions, read their minds, AND see the future. Other kids were scared of me, thought I was a freak, or both, and they sure as hell made it known.

Thirdly, there's my sexuality. I'm bisexual, and I've known for as long as I can remember. I don't think I ever really gave it much thought until I was older. When I was little, my teacher asked the class to draw a picture of what we wanted our wedding day to be like. I drew a picture of me marrying another girl. It was no big deal to me, but when you are being raised in a predominantly Catholic area by a Catholic family and attend a Catholic school, this sort of thing is not taken lightly. In other words, they tried to cure me before it was too late.

Guess who still likes boobs.

The worst of it was when I was in second grade. My whole life, everyone always made snide comments or made fun of me, but none of them were as bad as Linda Meyer.

Linda made fun of me for everything. She told me I was fat, ugly, stupid, weird, creepy, freaky, blah, blah, blah....basically every goddamned name in the book. She yelled at me constantly.

That's when six year old me began to self-harm. I didn't cut myself, obviously, I was six, but I still hurt myself. I would bite my arms constantly, only knowing that for whatever reason it made me feel better. I didn't know what it would lead to when I was older. I was still so naive, yet I hated myself so much. Sometimes, I would lay awake at night and pray to God to kill me.

Moral of the story, don't make fun of people. You don't have to be in middle of high school to hate yourself. Little kids can want to die too. I can't remember the last time I didn't hate myself. I thought everything the bullies said was true. I thought I was weird, creepy, freaky, fat, ugly, stupid, dumb, idiotic, foolish, retarded, scar-faced, and crazy. I thought I was wrong because I had crushes on girls and boys. I thought I deserved to die, that if my parents knew who I was they'd hate me. I tried to run away. I tried to die. Unfortunately, I got caught writing the note. I was eight and it was written in blue crayon, but every word written on it is valid to this day.

Kids used to leave notes in my school desk when they got in trouble for bullying me to my face. I didn't know who was doing it anymore, so I never told. Everyone avoided me in school except for three girls, Megan, Veronica, and Chelsea. Veronica had been my best friend since first grade, but our friendship only began because she pitied me. Chelsea was only friends with me because her mom felt sorry for me and made her be my friend. Megan was friends with me because she had cancer, which caused one of her eyes to have to be removed. Since I had seen WAY worse with all the bloody dead people flying around, it hadn't bothered me and I hung out with her.

Chelsea eventually stopped hanging out with me. A part of me was really hurt, but I knew she never really considered me a friend. Megan was the person who got me into My Chemical Romance. The first song I had heard from them was "Cancer." Since my dog had recently died of cancer, it really stuck. Soon, I was researching the band and immediately fell in love. Megan got mad at me though, because I was apparently copying her since she was the one who hated herself and cut. Little did she know. Just because I don't cut on my arms where anyone can see doesn't mean I don't cut. I have my fair share of scars.

Veronica stopped talking to me when I came out. The first words out of her mouth when I told her that I'm bi were, "Please tell me you're kidding." She kept saying this over and over again, then screamed at me about it. Apparently, Megan was coming over to Veronica's house without me knowing, because that's when she walked in the room laughing and talking about how it was obviously a phase.

I don't know about you, but I don't think a phase lasts your whole fucking life. Just saying.

Megan and I go to the same high school, but she avoids me at all costs. I have very few friends, so I turn up the music whenever I get the chance and listen until my ears bleed, and then some. it's the only thing that takes my mind off of things, even if it's only for a little while.

Notes

Woo, more life story shit.

Yours in destruction,
~ Demolition Heart

Comments

There are currently no comments