The cruel laughter that pierces my ears. The looks of contempt that send my stomach flipping. The snide comments no one bothers to share with me. The humor that hides the true meaning. The exclusion that chips one more piece off my soul.
Most people wouldn’t assume I’ve been bullied. I doubt the bullies themselves realize that I’m hurt. And in truth, I shouldn’t be. But I’m so fragile, I’m just a feeble flame in a breeze. I’m a bubble hovering between two nails. I can’t help taking what people say to heart, while I just laugh it off on the outside. And I am hurt so much by my own self, other people just make it worse.
Most people don’t realize that my sarcastic and sharp words are armor, not weapons. I might hurt other people too, but I can’t think about all that. If I start to dive into regrets and the past, I’m worried I won’t come out. And people laugh when I use my armor. It’s the only time most people think I’m funny. It’s my way of fitting in. It’s my prayer that the sharks won’t realize I’m a goldfish.
And I am truly sorry to any I have hurt, but it’s nothing compared how the world has hurt me. I am slowly losing everything I care about. My secure family bonds, my best friend, my first dog, my youth, my innocence, my sister, any illusion I had about a safe world, any ounce of bravery I had in my soul, my true self. I have been forced to play a role I don’t have the lines for. And yet the world still hurts me with the harsh words of others. The bullies that hurt me. The mean ones that prey. The proud lions who tear my soul from my body and feast on the remains.