They say that bullying is too talked about, too cliché to write about. You need a special angle they say. You need to captivate the reader they told me. But what they don’t understand is bullying is not talked about enough. How can you call such an important subject too cliché to talk about? Why must I take a different angle to bullying when what I feel is what I want to write about? The irony in this is that the people telling me bulling is too cliché and that I need a different and original angle to talk about, are the ones who were bullied the most. Did they forget how hard it was even to talk about being bullied? Maybe because it’s so fresh in my mind, I can still picture every moment, every word, and every action.


Will you miss me when I’m gone?
I was once a bully. Constantly picking on people because of my own insecurities. “Her hair is ugly. What is she wearing?” These are a few of the phrases that were said to others to boost my self-esteem. Never realizing that those people too had their own insecurities. Picking on them seemed to make me feel better about myself. One thing many people did not realize was that there was no physical bulling involved. The majority of it was emotional, verbal bullying. “No you cannot sit with us at lunch.” Giving awkward stares in the hallway. Making them feel like they were worthless. These are the things that could make one question life; is it really worth it? Realizing that I was really hurting myself, I stopped the bulling and started to deal with my own insecurities. Trying to better myself.


I am now an outsider looking in. Watching someone get bullied. I repeatedly ask myself what I should do, how I should react. Not sure if saying something would be the right thing. I don’t want people to start hating me. When I was the bully I would attack anyone who tried to defend the one I was picking on. I did not want to be in a position where someone would attack my insecurities. I am friends with both the bully, and the victim. Seeing both sides is eye opening. The bully not realizing how she is making the other people feel. Thinking that what she is doing is completely okay. The victim calls me crying, asking why her senior year is turning out like this. Asking why everyone hates her. Asking why I am even friends with her. All I know to say is that it will get better. Thinking in my head if I once realized the effects I had on people maybe this bully would as well. I know all too well that it doesn’t always happen like that.


I am now getting bullied. Not your typical name calling bulling. It’s more like your all girls school bullying. As I walk in the halls I feel the awkward stares of the girls who hate me. Almost burning through my skin. Wishing the stares would actually burn through so I can feel something other than the emotional pain. Going to lunch and having nowhere to sit because this one group of girls hates you. You can’t just sit with other people. Everyone has already made their own cliques. Being on the other end really does make one question life. The irony is, that the one girl who actually hates, me has not done any of this. It is her friends, her followers. They feel like they need to prove their friendship by shunning someone from the group just because one person does not like them. I go home thinking of the negative aspects in my life. I can’t stop thinking about them all. This is once how I made people feel. This is what I made people think of themselves. What was wrong with me? What is wrong with me that people now hate me? I go from being a bully, which is wrong. To being a bystander that doesn’t do anything. To being bullied. Maybe life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe life just isn’t for me. People wouldn’t have missed me when I was a bully. People wouldn’t have cared when I was a bystander. People will not care now that I am getting bullied. I wont miss me when I’m gone. Will you miss me now that I am gone?