The dark lure of harassment

At first I thought it was because I was a new student. But even after a month when people still gave me piercing looks, whispered behind my back and snickered as I walked along the school corridor, I began to wonder. I was left out of group projects, sat companionless in a corner during lunch and walked back home alone through lonely streets. “You just joined this school, it’ll take some time to make friends,” my mom reassured me, as she kissed me on my forehead. This soothed my mind and made me think that maybe my mom was right, I just needed time to adjust to the new school.

But as weeks passed by, it kept getting worse. I wanted to go back home, curl up in my bed and dissolve myself in tears.

I wanted to share my pain with my parents and teachers but my voice always trailed off. My head throbbed with thoughts, heart pounded with hurt and I hated myself. I hated myself for not being smart, for eating carbs for breakfast, for wearing sloppy clothes and for being so weak and defenseless.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to be heard, I wanted to show how wretched I was. But all that left my lips were soft sobs. I walked to my balcony and looked down at the ground. Then my phone pinged. I saw a text message that read, “Before you feel like giving up, just remember the reason why you held on for so long.”

I looked across the balcony and saw a girl waving at me, grinning. I read the message again and cracked a slight smile. I will persevere.