Giraffe…

When I was young, bullying was a part of my life everyday. It would usually just be names being called giraffe (in a rather mean way) because of my height compared to my classmates.  Once junior high hit, things developed to exclusive and various other mean acts. I recall once on the bus, I sat in front of my bullies. Soon I felt some tugging at my hair, which got stronger and stronger, he was actually pulling a large chunk of my hair out. The bus driver did nothing, even though I was crying so hard. Boom. Bald spot on the back of my head for months, and that really didn’t help the case. After that, it was obvious that they spoke about me behind my back all of the time, the snickers, the laughs, anything I did was “dumb”— even when I donated my hair to cancer. People took it as a sign of me becoming a lesbian, which spread rumours throughout the school. I got sad. Very sad, I felt I wasn’t worth it or anything and nobody liked me. It got bad. I developed tendencies to self-harm and didn’t feel nice about myself. 

 

 

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