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It was more than ridiculous. I just didn’t know how much more I could take of it. I mean, who would be okay with stupid little mean girls constantly checking to make sure that your life was as miserable as possible.
It started weeks ago, the endless snide, horrible comments and texts and posts about me, to me. Never face to face, never physical bullying, always online, always where they know I will look. All from the people I once called my friends. Pfft, well there goes those friendships.
It’s hard to use the word ‘bullied’ but that is what I’m told it’s called when people run hate campaigns against you on every social media platform ever invented. Every single item of clothing I wear and every part of my body from my head to my toes is the laughing stock of pretty much everyone. They use any excuse to tease me, call me names and make me feel like trash.
I told my mum that I was fine, I could just ignore them and I didn’t care. But the truth is, it hurts so much, I can’t just ignore them, and I do care, a lot. I would cry night after night in the safety of my room. Sometimes, even though I hate to say it, I would wish the perpetrators death. In the depth of the night and in my lucid teenage dreams, they certainly met with some terrible endings.
But, when I woke up and my dreams stopped, I would be met with a realisation that would pour over me like ice-cold water and cause me to freeze and take a sharp intake of breath. It was not real. I would have to face the world and its harshness. All. Over. Again. I just couldn’t take it, I can’t.
Don’t ask me how I came to be standing on the roof of a shopping mall, 30-storeys up, because I don’t even know myself. I don’t even recall how I found the way to the roof. All I remember is thinking about what it would be like not to have endless haters and bullies making me feel smaller and smaller until eventually I disappeared. I was standing at the edge of the world, considering the inconceivable. If I jumped, all the nightmares would go away. I would be free from the bullying, free from the awful comments.
I don’t know how long I stood there but it must have been a while, because before long, the sky turned from blue to grey and from grey to black. The cold evening air sent a chill down my spine and I was vaguely aware of the vibration of my phone in my pocket. Someone was calling. I reached into my pocket, struggling to stop the tears fall as I switched off my phone and tried to banish the vision of my beloved mum’s face. I pushed the pain away and mustered as much strength as I had to do it finally. To jump.
But something startled me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and surprisingly instead of feeling foreign and scary, it felt safe and comforting. I whipped around to see the familiar face of my twin brother. I was so overwhelmed to see his reassuring face that I fell into his arms sobbing with relief and confusion. How is he here? Why is he here? How? How? HOW???
“What do you think you’re doing Missy?” he exclaimed, pretending to be angry. “Come with me, let’s go back inside into the warmth.”
I followed him in a trance back down into the lift, and all the while his hand wrapped around mine, guiding me to safer ground. Once we reached the ground floor, he gave me one last big bear hug (in which I felt completely at home), drew back and looked me in the eye, telling me to be strong. He then turned on his heels and marched off into the crowd and I lost sight of him. The people around me were all too lost in their own world to notice anything, so I returned home to my mum.
She was worried sick. I should have been home hours ago. I told her I was sorry for making her worry, but it was okay because I was with Jack. My mum looked at me pitifully and put her arms around me. “I know honey, I know it’s hard to accept he’s gone and at such a young age too. How I wish he were still alive today.”
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