At vero eos et accusamus et iusto odio dignissimos ducimus qui blanditiis praesentium voluptatum deleniti atque corrupti quos dolores et quas molestias excepturi sint occaecati cupiditate non provident, similique sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollitia animi, id est laborum et dolorum fuga. Et harum quidem rerum facilis est et expedita distinctio. Nam libero tempore, cum soluta nobis est eligendi optio cumque nihil impedit quo minus id quod maxime placeat facere possimus, omnis voluptas assumenda est, omnis dolor repellendus. Itaque earum rerum hic tenetur a sapiente delectus, ut aut reiciendis voluptatibus maiores alias consequatur aut perferendis doloribus asperiores repellat.
School has always brought somber and melancholy feelings for me. Ever since I switched schools in Kindergarten, I have been treated as if I were some aberrant freak. Throughout the years, I was always either bullied or completely ignored, as if I were an invisible ghost. The events that occurred throughout my sixth grade year had the biggest impact on me. It was a doleful year. I had only one friend, though she was only a friend to me some days, for the other days she was not. On the days that she was a friend, we would go to the local basketball court after school. When others were being mean to her, I would wipe away her tears and tell her these words; "Everything will be okay, I'm here for you." She would smile and say, "I'm so happy you're my friend." The next day, she would be with the "popular" kids. She would join in with them and say mean things to me, calling me names and making me feel an inescapable melancholia. Whenever I would attempt to say anything to her, even just a simple greeting such as hello, she would act like she didn't hear me- like I was invisible- and each time, I could feel my heart wrenching and dying inside. I wanted to cry and ask her why, why she was treating me this way. The next day, she would apologize and say, "I'm sorry." Throughout the year, I dealt with this on-and-off friendship, and I slowly became more and more depressed. Throughout that year, I can remember some of the things my classmates would say, calling me offensive names, such as "ugly" and "loser," and some of them had even told me to "Jump off a cliff." The worst part was that I actually had started to believe that the words they were saying was true. I really believed that I was an ugly loser, and that everyone would be happier if I was dead. It had gotten to the point at which I started to contemplate suicide. During classes, I would write notes to myself, such as "Live or Die?" I recall even asking some of my classmates if they thought I should die, and that one of them had responded with an outburst of laughter, then said "Go die behind a bush!" My homeroom teacher didn’t help at all. I dreaded every single day, knowing that when I came to school, she'd be there, and I was uncertain of what crude comments she would make toward me that day. She was in her late sixties, becoming ever more hostile each day that passed. She would humiliate me in front of the class by saying untrue statements, such as “Well look at that! Teagan got an F on her assignment again!” The class would laugh at me, thinking I was a failure, when really, I was getting A’s on my assignments. Whenever she would ask the class a question, I'd raise my hand eagerly, to answer, but she would never call on me. Come time for the report cards, I found out that she was decreasing my grade because I wasn't participating in class. I was trying, but she purposefully ignored my hand, every class. Between classes, my classmates would take the extra time away from the teachers to make fun of me. The worst memory of that year was a certain day in particular. It happened between classes, during a small time allowed for a "bathroom break." I was ganged up by a group of the more "popular" kids, who proceeded to push me into my locker (I could fit inside due to how small I was), and then they proceeded to call me names such as "owletgot," "gay," "stupid," "loser," etc. I had already reached my breaking point by then, and one by one, the tears fell. I remember feeling powerless, worthless, inferior, and ready to die. It got worse, though. I had went into the restroom to go wipe my tears and try to calm myself, when my "friend" entered the restroom. She got aggressive, pushed me into a corner, and started to say things like "You wanna go, punk?" "Come on, try me!" "I'm gonna kill you you gay (censor) faggot!" At that point, I was already extremely suicidal, and waiting to die, so I told her to "Go ahead." She put her hands around my throat and squeezed until I couldn't breathe. As I struggled to breathe, I started to fear death and I tried to push her away, but I didn't have the strength. She would have killed me then and there, but a girl who lived a few houses down the street from me entered the restroom and pushed her off of me. It is the memories of days like these that motivates me to help others who get bullied. To talk with them and show them that things will get better. It's my desire to help others who have felt the way I did then that motivates me to study the field of Psychology. If I could get into the field of Psychology, I would have a full-time career that would enable me to help others who experience the kinds of things that I did, or worse. I want to be able to show them how to find their light within the dark.
OMGOSH!!!! That is literally my life story! I got bullied. and someone threatened to kill me!!!! I think this story is great.
plz check my lyrics in music category if u want
This paragraph is really good, not that you got bullied and stuff, but from a writer's perspective.
Wow....amazing. Inspiring rather. Good job....seriously!
Thanks guys! (: