What doesn't destroy us,makes us stronger.

"They laugh at me because I’m different; I laugh at them because they’re all the same."
— Kurt Cobain

Back when I was in elementary school,people used to tease me a lot.They said I dressed weird,that I acted weird and that I wasn't as smart as many people thought I was.I used to have a low self-esteem back then,imagine how it got worse hearing those words every day.

I was skinny,short and quiet,while the girls in my classroom were the opposite and they made fun of me because of it.

I barely made friends,because I used to think people would just hurt me and I never said a word in school,making the teachers worried and asked my parents what was wrong with me.They told the teachers that I was just a quiet little girl and that I preffered not to speak,which was the truth.

I remember in second grade,when a boy touched my hand as a friendly gesture and I ran to the bathroom to wash my hand.I don't recall why I felt so disgusted,but I did and after I told my mother,she only responded:
-"Oh,Charlene.Just try to make friends,you will like it,I promise."-

But I never enjoyed people's company,so I decided to start writing everything that happened to me for the next years and that they stayed in there,forever sealed.I had the thought that when I had children one day,I would give them all the notebooks that had my life story in it,for them to understand my past a bit more.

Here's an essay I wrote,back when I was in sixth grade,so it has been two years since I wrote it.

It was a Monday,first day of school and I was transferred to a new one,making me the new kid.The nervousness grew bigger as I got stared at,which I hate a lot and entered the classroom.Everyone took a brief glance at me and continued on with their activities,for which I was grateful and I took a seat,while the teacher gave me a quick nod in approval and continued stacking on some papers.
I took my sketchbook and continued drawing until three girls,who seemed older than me by about two years,takes my sketchbook and throws it across the room.Everyone stopped to see what the girl was doing to me and I felt anger rising in my chest.I heard a boy call her and my eyes went wide at her name.Skylark in Spanish,which is “Alondra”.I almost laughed at this.That sweet,innocent bird was nowhere near this woman,this disgusting woman.
After I told her what I thought of her name,she almost punched me and the teacher decided to intervene.I was beyond mad,but I held it back,until the teacher said to not mess with her.
I tried dressing a little normal,trying to be a little more like them,but it was hard.I didn’t want to hide myself,but it seemed that’s what I had to do in order to survive my last year in that school.
No matter what I did,the bullying just got worse and worse,to the point they almost threw me by the stairs and punched me so hard they left scars and bruises on me.I tried to hide them from my mother,but it work for only a month.She eventually found out and sued the girls,but I was still afraid of what going to happen when I went back to school.After a few more months of being in control of their emotions,they decided to go back the same way as before and I just continued to try and be strong,to not cry.

Last week of school,I was in the basketball court’s bleachers with two girls that were the only ones who were nice to me and we were talking about how my life was going back home and about various other things until the girls came back to hurt me again.
I finally decided to end this once and for all and I decided to punch her in the nose,which made a sickening ‘crack’ noise and I knew it was broken.I smiled to myself and my friends smiled warmly back,but one of them frown as she lifted the sleeve of my jacket and stared at my left wrist,completely scarred and pale.I took it back and hid it in my sleeve and swore her that it would never happen again.”

And it hasn’t happened again.Thanks to my mother and my two good friends for being there with me,because I was about to kill myself to end this horrible thing that has happened to me.But you know what they say:

“What does not destroy me, makes me strong.”
Friedrich Neitzche