Nobody Wanted Me (35/73)

As September rolled around I was excited to start school. School would be my escape from the hellish constraints of my home life. Admittedly I was nervous about starting grade five at a new school. But there was comfort in knowing that nobody knew me and that nobody could see what a mess I truly was.  But my excitement quickly faded by the end of the first month of school.

I did not feel like I belonged in Rio Terrace Elementary. I was an outcast among my class mates. I was different then they all were, I was poor. It was hard to make friends. I was constantly made fun of for not wearing the right brand names or because I was not skinny or beautiful. I secretly envied the girls in my class. They all looked like they had the perfect lives. They all were skinny, beautiful and dressed so nice. They seemed so happy. Which I did not. I looked damaged and lost and they could all see that. Even the boys were cruel  to me. Two of the boys in particular liked to follow me home across the school yard hitting me all the way with the hockey sticks as the made fun of me and called me names. It was devastating and made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I started to wonder if maybe I deserved what life had given me. I began to think that I was a bad person and that was why nobody wanted to get to know me.

School was no longer my escape. It had become another place that I wanted to run away from. I hated being there. I tried to explain to my mother what was happening at school but she just insisted that I try harder to make friends. She did not understand that I was trying. When I told her about the boys hitting me on my way home all she had to say was that they must like me and that was why they were being mean to me. I did not believe that and felt like she just didn’t care about how much I was hurting inside. Soon my grades even started to slip.

Once my mother noticed that my grades were getting bad she punished me by making me study for a couple of hours each night. She thought I was not putting in enough effort and that studying would help me to do better. If only she would have taken the time to see that I was suffering at school and at home. But she didn’t. Instead she put all the blame on me. I began to feel very low and alone. Whether I was at school or at home I was in hell. I was being bullied during the day and abused at night.

 The only moments I looked forward to were the weekends with my father. It was the only place at the time were I could go where I felt loved and safe. But two weekends a month was not enough to keep me from falling into depression. I began to believe that I deserved what was happening. I began to believe that I was no good and that nobody wanted me. In that moment I knew that my life would never get better and I started to think about wanting to die.