In the Mind of the Bullied

 One thing about me that you might not have know is, when I journal about my life/thoughts/feelings, I often do it in the form of creative writing. Sometimes my writing is bizarre and unrealistic but somehow portrays exactly how I feel, and other times it's much more realistic. This week I wanted to share with you one of my journal entries I wrote a month ago. I think its more of a realistic written piece but still creative writing piece. I think this is an accurate representation of how people feel when they are bullied. I hope you enjoy.

12-17-14

I sit down at my desk, hoping I can make it though one more day. Hoping I’m invisible to them today. But wishes don’t come true. It starts with a glare and I immediately wonder what I have done within five minutes of the bell to provoke their anger and hatred toward me. Soon the glares turn into whispers and fingers pointing at me. My head starts buzzing with ill thoughts of them and myself. Their whispers form into giggles and laughs and soon they don’t even care I’m three feet away. Their words pierce me. Their eyes punch me leaving me breathless and inside I’m gasping for air. Everything is so loud, my head is spinning, and I feel like I’m going insane. Tears start forming in my eyes and soon I’m shaking. I hate them. I hate this place. I hate this world. I hate me. It’s so loud. Laughs, whispers, comments, thoughts, glares all fill my head. There is no longer a buzz, my head is now pounding. It’s so loud. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to break. Shatter into a million pieces. I’m falling apart piece-by-piece in front of the ones breaking me. They win. I’m so weak from blocking them out. I let them consume me like vultures finding fresh meat. They tear me apart, ripping me to shreds. I’m screaming, crying, wishing they would just kill me now. When they finally leave me, I'm barely alive. They leave me strong enough to heal, but they will attack again. 

I’m still sitting at my desk. My face is blank as if their words were never spoken. I staring a hole into my book. The teacher calls on me, and I answer as if nothing happened.