Dear Bullies,
I can recall the things you did to me, almost like I’m watching an old film. It was fourth grade. I was innocent. We were always competing on everything. It seemed like we were best friends, yet we always needed to be better than the other. You touched me during class and told me not to tell. When someone saw, they told on us. Then we were both crying in separate corners. Then you lied about it and gave me looks, so I lied too. I convinced myself so hard that you were really touching my thigh. Then when you were done with me, you expected me to do the duty to you. You would spend the night at my house and touch me. Again, expecting me to do the same. But we never did it at your house. Only my house… because you knew it was wrong. Here I thought that this is what friends were supposed to be like… I didn’t know, I never had any. On your birthday sleepover, I went home at four AM. You all claimed that you didn’t hear me screaming bloody murder when you wrapped me in a ton of blankets. Then you ignored me and told other people lies. Just so you know, I didn’t try to kill your hamsters. I also didn’t cut the girl who picked the scab on her head. I could’ve done without you making me an outcast.

I also still remember you. You were the one who told me my nose was big. The first one to ever make me self-conscious. It was clear from the start that you didn’t like me, and you made damn sure everyone knew. Everyone joined in with you, laughing at me. I was the one who had a huge gap between all her teeth. The one who got her clothes from K-Mart? The one who was too chubby? Too short. The one with short hair. The one who was the smartest in the class? I was in FIFTH GRADE. Did it really matter that I didn’t wear makeup? I remember writing notes about my suicide. I was always anxious around you, I thought you were going to hurt me again. I had this need to be perfect for you. You ended up loving me, after you got over my nose. Which I’m sure was really hard and strenuous since my nose was so large.

I also remember you guys… the ones from sixth grade. The ones who called me butter-face. The ones who told me I was too fat. The ones who criticized and judged my every move. You made fun of my glasses, and my yearbook picture. You told me I looked like a chipmunk due to my large, round cheeks. You told me I wasn’t good enough, and I tried so hard. I hated getting up, because I knew all eyes would be on me. You wanted to find all my flaws. You helped me hate myself. You destroyed me from the inside out. You chewed me up and spit me out. I desperately wanted you to accept me, and I would do anything to get you to like me. I guess after all you were just stupid boys who still believed in cooties.

How about you? You lured me into your trap, time and time again. You treated me like a princess and then slammed me to the ground. You told me I was fat. You didn’t even care when I first cut myself. It was because of you, too. You told me I was stupid, dumb, gross, fat, and nasty… the guy who called me a w****, s***, b****, f***-tard, faggot, and hoe. You never said sorry. Ever. I guess you didn’t want anyone to see you wounded. When I tried to get you to apologize, you just changed the subject like I hadn’t shed tears. I don’t even know why you hurt me. I mean a man who loves his girl doesn’t do the s*** you did to me. Was I just your toy? Your pass-time? I mean, you got what you wanted and then shut me out. I just wanted you to like me, even if you pretended. Which you did. What did you want from me? It seemed like I was never good enough for your selfishness. You ignored me when I needed you. You pretended you were my friend… then talked about me behind my back. You laughed at me anytime you saw me, like there was some joke that I wasn’t in on. You tried to avoid me at all costs, but I was constantly looking for you. I just wanted to prove to you that I was worth it. I guess I really wasn’t.

And you? It may have been unintentional; you were my best friend for 2 years. You told me not to cut myself, but you did it just as bad. You hypocrite. We made promises that we would do whatever the other person did, because we didn’t ever want to be alone. We almost overdosed on Motrin. Any time you cut yourself, I cut myself. When I cut myself, you cut yourself. It was a chain. We always competed against each other. It seemed like putting people down was a sport. You always told me that you had a better ass. That you were skinnier, that you were smarter, that you had better thighs. You lowered my self-confidence, although I don’t think I ever had any. I starved myself so that I could be 102 lbs. along with you, although I was 5’3 and you were 5’. I never even got there; I was always stuck on 110 lbs. We tried to make each other jealous, as if that would win us an award. We snuck out together, smoked together. We got pulled over by the police 2 times. We just went in vicious circles. I was the brain and you were the body. I don’t even remember why you were the body… maybe you just wanted a title. We used to get in physical fights, becoming malicious. I would always win, but you still insisted that you were the body. We got in little verbal fights every other day… we only called off our friendship for 2 hours… the longest I remember without you was two days. Anytime I did anything you didn’t like, you would just call everything off. You tried to pretend I wasn’t your best friend in front of other people. I mean, we told each other everything. EVERYTHING. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you everything, because you ended up telling my mom. I don’t even know where you are right now. Probably doing drugs and getting pregnant. If I would’ve stayed your best friend, we would probably be dead.

What about you? The girl I trusted… the girl who I told my secrets. Then you told everyone everything you knew… and for what reason? You threatened to beat me up. You talked about me behind my back. You told everyone things I said about him or her. You formed an immature group and laughed at me. It was easy to see through you, though. I could tell you hated yourself and that was your motivation. You turned everyone against me. I had no friends. I didn’t eat anything at lunch because I was too scared you would laugh at me. I moved schools so that I didn’t have to endure your torture.

Oh and you… You turned on and off. You told people lies about me and pretended it was true. Everyone believed you because you were more popular. The only reason you were more popular is because everyone was scared of you. They wanted to bow down to you and be perfect around you so they didn’t have to be next. You told everyone I stuffed my bra because I had a C cup and you were still an A. You did drugs… and posted pictures of you doing it on Instagram. You were mean to everyone. You told me you would beat me up, and that I should be prepared because you would come out of nowhere and jump me. Then you put a girl into the hospital 4 days after your threats to me. You ran away from home. You cut yourself and then decided to be a hypocrite. You pointed out everyone’s flaws, and couldn’t even see your own. You thought you were the s*** because you wore Uggs and North Face. The truth was that you could barely afford it. The only reason you had it was because you threatened your parents. I desperately tried to get on your good side because I was scared of you, but it seemed like when I got close, you would just make something else up. You told me everything that was wrong with me. You laughed at me. You got so mad when I won any argument, and then just to show that you were ‘alpha’, you told me you would kill me. I guess you don’t like being second.

You were the boy who got jealous when I talked to other guys. You were the one I met on Xbox and then talked to on Kik for a while. You didn’t even know me, and I didn’t know you. Yet you were convinced that I was all yours. You told people to call me a s*** on Kik, because I won an argument in front of your friends. I woke up with 45 messages from random people, calling me a S***. It didn’t take me long to figure out that it was you. After I told you about my past, you picked on my flaws and hit me where it hurt.

You were a bit obsessive. You tried everything to get my number, and get with me. You would always ask me out and I would say no. You always tried to get me to hug and kiss you, but it never worked. You slapped my butt in the hallways, along with your dumb friends. Any time I would turn you down, you would pretend you hated me. You were scared of rejection more than I was scared of the dark. You tried to trip me and knock me down, but it never worked. I was 9 inches taller than you. You tried to knock my books out of my hands and corner me. You told people lies about me, because you were too insecure and hated that I was right. You also hated that I rejected you, although you continuously asked me out, never taking a hint.

You were the guy who I dated for a few weeks. The one who tried to force me to do things with you that I wasn’t ready for? You made me send you pictures. You always slapped my butt in the hallway and touched my boobs any chance you got. You also cornered me. You sent my pictures to your friends and goggled over me. You pretended I was an object. You just wanted sex… that’s all you meant when you said, “I love you.” You did drugs in school and tried to get me to do them with you. You also helped me and you were my friend when I lost everyone else. You stood up for me. But all you wanted was my exterior. You barely glanced at the inside. Maybe if you had, you could’ve saved me.

And what about me? You probably did the most damage. You cut yourself and tried to kill yourself when things weren’t going the way you wanted them to go. You didn’t know what would help, so you got into trouble. You sent guys pictures just to get some kind of recognition that you couldn’t give yourself. You needed attention from guys because you weren’t good enough for your own standards. You had anxiety and depression and you tried to refuse help. You starved yourself because you just wanted to be adequate. If there was less of you, there was less people could hate. You went to a mental hospital 3 times because you had panic attacks. You hurt yourself just to take some of the pain away. There comes a point where your wounds hurt more than your feelings. You scratched the skin off your arm because you didn’t know what to do. You were so insecure. When someone was mad at you, you were mad at yourself. You hated everything about yourself and just wanted to feel okay again. Everyone just wanted your attention, but you used them to get theirs. You couldn’t see that everyone was fighting their own battles. You told your parents you hated them because you felt like nothing was left to hate. You attacked your parents with your words because you were mad and felt hurt. You covered up all your true emotions with anger. You hurt people to get power. When you were upset, everyone had to know and had to feel the same way. You wanted compliments, but you wouldn’t believe them anyways. You judged yourself and had to be perfect. You counted things. You needed everything to look okay. You organized the rap out of things. Your mind went 90 miles a minute, and things replay over and over in your head like a tape. You needed to pull things apart and find loopholes. You needed to contradict everything that was said.

But in the end, I guess you’re living proof that people can change.
All I can say is that changing is the hardest thing I have ever done. But it was easily worth it.