You’re a stupid redneck and no one wants you here. One simple sentence. Nine simple words that changed my life forever. Words not said, but typed. Typed onto a screen and seared into my mind, into my soul. That box forever lingering in my consciousness. It was the spark to a battle in stalemate with two sides just waiting for the other to attack. Cyberbullying. I hate that word, cyberbullying. It makes it sound unreal, it’s like a nickname. “Oh kids will be kids…” Which maybe true, kids will always be mean to one another, its part of growing up. But in fifth grade, to be called a redneck? To say one doesn’t belong? To cause such pain and anger that can force one to the edge? What pleasure does that bring? I don’t understand how my suffering and anguish can make you feel better about yourself.
But this, this was just the beginning. All through middle school I was ostracized and ridiculed. I received death threats, heard awful rumors, and got into a multitude of fights. Someone actually told me that I, a twelve year old girl, was the cause for all the wars in the world, I was told to go crawl in hole and die. Of course no one would care; I was weird and had only a few friends. I felt like that person was right. After that I didn’t want to go to school anymore, I was scared. I was scared to leave my house. To this day I still don’t know who said those things to me. No, not said, but typed. Typed on a webpage, a page that everyone could see. Everyone could see me get humiliated, but no one tried to help. No organizations came to my aid. I felt like no one cared that I was miserable. My parents called the police and the school, anyone that could help. But they all gave the same answer: “sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.” There’s nothing you can do? How can you tell me that there’s nothing you can do? You're the police, and all you can do is say sorry?
But now, well now if little Johnny gets pushed by big Billy a little too hard the issue gets taken up with the whole school. Why was I different? My mother was the only one to tell me that everything was going to be okay, that I was going to be okay. But she’s my mother and that’s her job. But now I'm left with this constant pull on my heart. This nagging that I don’t know who hurt me, and that I will probably never know. It leaves me questioning, could it have been you, or you? Were you the reason why I cried myself to sleep and woke up shaking for years? The unknown is the scariest part, not knowing if it will happen again, not knowing who to fully trust.
But the change to my being has been for the better. I will never let another person go through what I went through. No one can even imagine the pain I feel for those kids who are like how I was. But there’s one thing they should know: no matter what anyone says to you or about you, the only person that matters is you, yourself. Those bullies will get their consequences soon enough, and even if not you will always be the better person.
For anyone out there agonizing about that next day, just know that this wont last forever and you will be stronger because of your experience. I suppose I'm one of the lucky ones, I know I'm a better person than those kids who hurt me. I'm a stronger person, and you will be one too, because of it.