"What's the use, though? I-i'll never be good enough!" I cried. I was 11 years old and was bawling like a baby.
"Yes you will," my mother said, whilst enveloping me in her arms.
When I look back now at how I used to be, I think I was really pathetic and weak back then.
"B-but the kids at school keep calling me names! A-and one kid pushed me onto the ground a-and my arms got scraped," I said, as tears flowed from my eyes. My face was getting all blotchy now and snot was coming from my nose. I was a mess and was getting tears all over my mom's shirt. If she wasn't as patient as she was, I think she wouldve gotten really **** with the way I was ruining her sweater.
"Don't listen to them. If you know what they're saying isn't true, then don't let what they're saying get to you. Remember, you're a child of God and don't let anyone tell you different," my mother told me, hugging me really hard. I cried even more after that though. I hated being so weak and not capable of defending myself. I suppose it wasn't my fault though. I was really thin, I had difficulty understanding schoolwork and on top of that, I had dyslexia. My dad, had also died when I was about three. I didn't really get to know him well, but I would've liked to. He could've taught me how to play sports and could've taught me how to fish. He could've also given me some advice on girls since I'm struggling with that now but, he's gone. I could list a bunch of other problems I have but, to be honest, it'd take forever. My mom kept trying to comfort me after that, but it didn't work. The bullying wouldn't stop and eventually, I had to change schools. All throughout my middle school and early high school years I was constantly ridiculed and called stupid for not knowing easy things. Like I said before, learning was really hard for me. I often found myself falling behind in class and whenever I asked a question, everyone would always put me down. "Are you serious? You still don't get it?" and "Freaking idiot," were two of the most common phrases I heard during my freshman and sophomore years. I was really starting to hate being alive at that point. It wasn't my fault that I had learning disabilities. It also wasn't my fault that I was skinny and scrawny. I tried to eat as much as I could, but nothing stayed on me. I was tired of everyone making fun of me. One night, I was feeling the saddest I'd ever felt. The burden I'd been carrying so long finally got to me. I needed help. I desperately longed for someone to talk to. Someone I could share my sadness with. So I did.
"I'm sorry I haven't talked to You in so long. I'm sorry this took so long but now I really need You. I- I hate this all so much. Each day it's one thing or another. This has all been going on so long that whatever hope I have is fading. Why did You have to make me this way? Why did I have to be the toothpick or the one who can't solve a simple math problem? It's not f-fair! And the thing that really hurts is that no one wants to be friends with someone like me. I'm sick of being lonely. I've never had any friends in my entire life. No girl has ever asked me out or asked me to be her date and I doubt one ever will. I'm nothing but a waste of oxygen, aren't I? Is it to much to ask to not wake up tomorrow?" my voice trailed off after that. It felt good to finally get those things off my chest, but the pain was still there. I layed down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, emotionless. I really didn't want to wake up tomorrow. I didn't want to face another day at school. Eventually I went to sleep and of course, I woke up.