• One day I was walking home from school, today had been boring.
    I turned off of the sidewalk and crossed the road. People honked at me, but I didn't care, it happens every day.
    People pointed and whispered, laughed at me.
    My long black hair flowing straight, a few red highlights flew across my face in the wind.
    Some boy I didn't know walked up to me, a smirk on his face.
    "You know you aren't so ugly with all that makeup on," he yelled, his friend high-fiving him.
    I just kept walking, that didn't matter to me.
    Even though I told my emotions not to dwell on what they called me, a silent tear slid down my cheek.
    By the time I got home, my blue ocean eyes were red all around. My makeup was all smeared, my face looking gray.
    I slid into my room and quietly lay in bed.
    I heard the front door slam and I traced the lining on my lime-green jeans.
    I could hear stumbling feet come up the stairs and I clutched my old teddy bear.
    Screaming in the room next to me, a slap on the face.
    I could hear mom crying, I knew I was next.
    My door flew open, my dad stumbled in.
    I hid in the corner, teddy in hand.
    Dad came over, hit me real hard, then he screamed at me, said it was all my fault.
    When he was done with me, my arms were purple and my lip was bleeding.
    I didn't want to deal with it anymore.
    I hated this life...
    I limped lightly to the kitchen and grabbed the razor blade.
    "Nobody will care when I'm gone, everyone will be happy again..." she thought.
    She was in the bathroom, staring at herself.
    "Goodbye," she whispered.


    The next morning, I watched over my house.
    I wandered to the bathroom and there I was.
    There was blood everywhere and my limp body laying in the bathtub.
    I heard my mother wake and waited for her.
    She walked into the bathroom to find me dead.
    Mom called the police and they took me away.
    Mom couldn't pay for a funeral, so I was burned and forgotten.
    I watched everyone carry on with their lives, happily.
    Dad ended up hurting Mom too much, she was in the hospital.
    Then I let my soul die, I was forgotten anyways.



    You should always think about the way you treat people. No matter what they wear, what they look like, the only thing that matters is who that person truly is. The girl in this story was someone who was bullied at school and abused at home. She had black hair with red, she wore a lot of black eye liner and mascara, her bangs hid her beautiful blue eyes, she dressed in clothing that made her stick out. She wanted to be noticed, she wanted someone to care for her, she wanted someone to love her. Isn't that what we all want?
    Think about it, before you say or do something to someone.
    Just think about it.