In October of 2015, I was being bullied everyday, leading me to horrible things. In the eighth grade, I was attending Morrice Jr./Sr. High School, a small school in the village of Morrice. Although when I first transferred schools I had a rocky start, growing up made that path from small pebbles to mountains. Those mountains felt like they were as tall as Mount Everest, almost impossible to climb. Once I started to climb, boulders came tumbling down on me, causing me to restart my journey.  When you’re a kid sure you get teased, but once you hit middle school or high school it’s not just teasing anymore; you get bullied and worse.

I was one of those kids, being bullied everyday, teased, and sometimes even sexually harassed. My life was a constant battle of trying to be happy and trying to have self confidence. Trying to keep my head above the frigid water, what felt like life or death situations. One day, the battle became to hard and beat me. I realized what people were actually saying, all the horrible things. I thought my emotional walls were strong enough to get through this, I soon found that I can only take so much. I tried to act like everything was okay, but nothing was.
Once my emotional walls were torn down, my self-esteem and confidence went with it. I was hit with some of the most severe depression I had known. It felt as if I had a boulder on each of my shoulders, falling down, trying to get back up. Yet I was unsuccessful every time, then it hit me again. This time with a panic attack, unable to stand from where I had fallen, screaming in pain. What I felt was indescribable, unbearable pain in my head, chest pain, a full blown panic attack in the middle of class. All the things people said to me went through my head, “You make bleach sound tasty. Go drink some bleach to make this world a better place. Your family doesn’t love you for a reason, it’s because you're you. You’re fake, as fake as your acrylic nails. You didn’t go to solo and ensemble because your a quiter.” All these things were said to my face by people I thought I could trust. After they said I was fake, I tore my acrylic nails off and started crying.

I soon found out my only hope was only trusting myself. I isolated myself from having any friends or social life. I soon found out silence can be violent, I had turned to self-harm to relieve emotional pain through physical pain. I felt relieved at first, then school came. I wore sweatshirts for a week straight to conceal the cuts on my left forearm. Once I wore a short sleeved shirt, people told me,” You’re just an attention seeker, cutting on your arms is for attention, and nothing more. You only do it to fit in with your friends, because we all know you're desperate for them.” Attention was the complete opposite of what I needed or even remotely wanted.

Everything they said made me feel worthless. I tried to get help, but it only made the situation worse. Talking to someone made me panic. At one point I wanted to stay in bed, since I had no desire nor energy to go to school. I didn’t want to deal with everything all over again. It repeated day by day, the same comments and new ones. At one point I just gave up and let them have at me, like they were a pack of wolves and I was a piece of meat. I kept telling myself there was no hope.

All these things have taught me something good can come out of bad. I may have scars on my arm, but those scars are my battle scars. From a battle that changed my family and I forever. A battle of climbing a mountain and always falling down, keeping my head above the frigid waters to stay alive. I am still fighting that battle, so far I’ve restarted and climbed those mountains, yet I am still fighting. I am fighting for the real person I am and nothing more. There will be many more mountains to come, but for now one battle is over with many more to come.