Silence | Teen Ink

Silence

June 5, 2013
By ghcstgal SILVER, Pella, Iowa
ghcstgal SILVER, Pella, Iowa
8 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
You're spending your wrath uselessly


Silence is the absence of sound. Despite this, do not mistake silence as the absence of pain. Just because you cannot hear the taunts doesn't mean they're not being said. Even though you think the cruel words have stopped doesn't mean they're not being whispered. When everything is silent, when you realize that no one even cares enough to say things to your face anymore, it's then you feel the complete ostracization.
My parents always encouraged me to be unique. Somewhere down the line, the eccentric individuality I had established for myself was no longer considered admirable, but rather weird. Peers could not accumulate an understanding for why I acted or dressed the way I did. Their lack of understanding lead to cruelty. A mission was established to make sure I knew just how much of a weirdo I was. They decided that since I was different then I must be bad. Since I wasn't like them then I must be wrong, I must be changed, I must come to realize what a pitiful excuse for a human being I was. A point was made that I didn't have any worth, that I wasn't special. I was a freak.
For a while, I believed them.
The daylight hours were filled with slamming lockers and conversations in the hall. The only words given to me were that my clothes were ugly, that I was ugly. Much harsher things said that I cannot bear to put down or to even ponder here. My heart was rubbed raw by the tormenting words, and more than once tears brimmed over and escaped down my cheeks. Tears that were just met with more ridicule.
One day in math, class had not yet begun, but the students sat perched in plastic seats, talking amongst themselves. Minutes passed, then I noticed snickers from around me. A note was being passed from desk to desk, getting closer to the left front seat where I was sitting. Finally when the note landed on my desk, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Notebook paper folded into eighths, my name scribed in pencil neatly. Slowly, I unfolded it and beheld what was written.
Twenty-three comments. I remember the exact number, I remember every single letter of that note. Each in a different handwriting, each aimed towards the same goal. Every single student in the class had written on this note, a sentence for me. Words of hate, words of spite, words that made me want to scream and yell and hit something. Make the pain and turmoil I felt on the inside reflect on the outside. I couldn't though, I just had to sit there in silence, feeling their gazes on me, judging my reaction to their sadistic joke. The last comment sent me over the edge. I stood and bolted from the room, down the hall and out of the school. The words repeating over and over in my head. Go kill yourself, freak.
I ran and ran and ran. My lungs burned and my heart pounded. I ran home. Ran away from school and the children. Ran away from the words and the taunts. Away from the silence, away from the unspoken words. Away from the note, away from that last sentence. I ran away, to what I had no idea. A destination is not what I had in mind. I didn't need to go somewhere, I needed to get away from somewhere.
When I had reached the sanctuary of my bedroom, I reached under my pillow and pulled out the only thing that could make me feel any sort of relief from the pain. The blade felt heavy in my shaking hand. Silver shone in the sunlight from the window, and when it touched my white skin red blossomed, spilling upon the blank expanse. New pain blossomed as old pain dulled. It just wouldn't dull enough. A little harder, a little deeper, and all of it could be over. No more words, no more pain, just silence. Not the cruel silence either, but finally placid, peaceful silence.
This wasn't fair. I thought of all I was leaving behind. My parents loved me more than anything in the world. They didn't deserve this. My mom and dad saw me for who I was, they saw the admirable uniqueness over the freaky creep. Even if only two people saw the good in me, wasn't that enough? Sometimes, it didn't seem like it was. Sometimes I wondered if there was ever an end to pain, or whether the end just led to another kind. I think it's time for me to find out.


The author's comments:
This isn't about me. I've never considered suicide nor have I been bullied this harshly. However it is happening to many kids and teens everyday. I wrote this to hopeful help people realize that bullying is still a problem, and it needs to stop.

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