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The Dark Corner

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The alarm screams in my ear. I sit up, smacking the snooze button and slowly rubbing my eyes, yawning. I throw myself out of bed, looking to the ground, my feet dragging along the carpet as I make my way to the bathroom. The pride I once carried has been ripped out of my hands. The happiness that once flowed through me has been drained from my soul. I could never look up from the ground again.
School. I hated it now more than I ever will. All because of them.
It all started with a word. One word; that is all it took. It actually started all the way back in kindergarten. Emiline had started spreading rumours that I was some sort of monster. Of course, it was not true; I could barely get myself to speak those days. They used to laugh at me for my fears. They told me I was stupid. They told me I was a freak. They told me I was evil and that I would end up in hell.
I never believed them, but their comments always came back to bite me. I started to believe it. I started believing I was stupid, despite being two grades ahead and setting up the most academically bound schedule possible. I started believing I was a freak. It came out in my stories, all of them being the strange ones. They were all depressed.
I was told I had emotional issues. Maybe this was because I was a loner until halfway through first grade. Maybe this was because I was bullied nearly every day since kindergarten. I finally escaped them in sixth grade, but they came back to haunt me in seventh, gaining more team mates and striking against me with more force.
Everyone knew I was emotionally detached. That is mainly what they used against me. What she did.
Emiline was evil. That was all I could ever say about her. She was in my class this year, but she did not act like it. Maybe she has noticed the error in her ways. I lost all hope when I realized she was only nice because the twins were there. She glared at me for talking to them. I hated her with a passion, but refused to show it. Anne did too, but why she did not dump her, I could never understand. She claimed it was because Emiline had no friends otherwise.
Good for her. She did not deserve friends.
She had deprived me of mine for years. I still remember kindergarten, my first ever school, and I knew nobody else. She did not help. I knew her from day care, and I knew she was bad. I remember sitting on the swings each recess, watching the kids go by with all their friends, and wondering why nobody spoke to me. I was actually wondering what the word meant. Friends were an unfamiliar concept to me.
I had one friend. Madeline I considered more of a sister than a friend. It was too bad she completely abandoned me in fourth grade. Each time I see her in the halls I want to push her down the stairs.
Then there was Jaclyn. I hated her with a passion. She would do things deliberately so that I couldn’t. She had a comment for nearly every one of my flaws, even some that I did not know about. I was her target in gym, for she knew that I had trouble in that area.
Jaclyn was one of the more physically harming types. Emiline was the emotional damaging type.
My mom ran a day care. Emiline went there; that is in fact how I met her. I remember how she used to call me things like fat and stupid. I remember how she used to tell me that my stories and my artwork were absolutely horrible. I remember she used to torment my cats. I remember she used to tell me that I was a horrible person and that I didn’t deserve the life that I did.
All of it I remember.
Just looking back on it makes me want to punch her face.
But I will not be the person she is. I will be better than her.
She was so horrid that we eventually kicked her out. She blamed me on it and still blames me to this day. Though I do not know why she hated it so much, for she said she did not like going there.
Then there was Patricia. She came along in middle school. In gym class she used to hit me with anything that could be thrown. I still remember that hockey puck nearly dislocating my knee cap. And then she had the nerve to laugh as tears started to form in my eyes. I just wondered how she would feel if she were on the receiving end. But I would not resort to it.
She used to follow me in the hall, tormenting me with her comments, and then laugh when I had an outburst. The counsellor got to know me fairly quickly.
Nobody knows me. I am a victim, hidden in the shadows, in the corners around school. I refuse to make new friends, feeling the ones I already have slipping through my fingers. I feel like I will die alone. Nobody is waiting for me on the other side.
Rebecca is another one. She used to chase me around the playground, calling me names. I can remember so few now, but I still hate her for it. She used to threaten me and tell me what to do. I would tell her that I was perfectly capable of doing things myself. She would snatch homework assignments out of my hands as I was writing my name to turn it in. I would ask it back and she would refuse, so I would have to follow it to the front to finish.
She started riding my bus. She would not let me sit anywhere near her, even if there was no other spots. It was not like I wanted to sit anywhere near her. I remember the rumours she spread around the bus in seventh grade. How I was some sort of horrible creature. I didn’t care anymore; I was the loner on my bus.
I remember that one day in gym. Jaclyn smirked at me, Rebecca smiling, as the ball hit me directly in the face with such speed as to knock me backwards and onto the ground. My nose bled, bruised, as was my tailbone. I couldn’t sit without squirming in pain for three weeks later. My nose was a slight purple colour. I was not happy that week.
I remember that one day at lunch. Emiline pushed me out of line. I didn’t get any food. There was none left. I starved until I got home, for I never ate breakfast.
I remember that one day in the hall. Patricia was walking behind me, exaggerating what had happened in gym after she threw the hockey puck at me. I turned and told her to shut up, and she simply called me stupid, and then laughed her head off. Then she called me a few ugly words.
I walked into science with a tear streaked face and a determined mindset to get back at her.
I remember that one morning. I came to school after a week or so off. People asked me constantly what had happened, and I refused to reply. I had rights not to. I remember when they walked up to eveyone and stated I had left because I was a coward. Then they stated that I was selfish and I had gone off for my birthday. Then they stated that I was evil because I did not have as much homework as them. What they didn't realize is that I had been at my grandmothers funeral, on the day after my birthday. They had the nerve to laugh when I cried.
I remember that one day. Nobody cared that I had been hurt. I limped around the school day, glad that we were not in gym that day. Nobody cared that I had been hurt emotionally too. They did not care when I had walked into class with puffy red eyes and a tear streaked face. They did not care when I had found it hard to talk. They did not care when I fell on the floor headed to the bathroom. They did not care.
It’s one thing to have people who make your life miserable. It’s another to have nobody there to make you feel better.
I looked into the mirror, and I saw myself. I was not who I wanted to be.
School was a burden holding me down. It was an anchor set upon my shoulders to hold me back.
My life is a roller coaster. Except this is a strange roller coaster that mainly goes down. There are a few strange bumps that occasionally strike, catching me off guard, but otherwise I am falling into a deep pit of depression.
One word. That was all it took. Emiline looked at me and said stupid. They said stupid. They said fat, and they said different, and they said weird, and they said ugly. And I believed it; I knew no better. But there is one thing they will not take from me.
I straitened up, looking away from the mirror. They will not take away my soul. That is one thing they cannot touch. I know inside that I am good, and that I have differences for a reason. They can gnaw away at my pride, at my dignity, but they cannot take away my soul. I will rise above them. I will be better. I will make it far in my life.
I went to school that day.
I came home with another bloody nose.
I came home with another dish full of snarky comments.
I immediately dumped them in the trash, brushing my hands off and walking away.




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. said...
Feb. 21 at 4:06 pm:
I see you. I see your pain. And though I have never met you, I know you. Because you are me.
 
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