When I was 6 (almost 7) years old, I moved from Florida to Washington. I immediately realized I did not fit in. I started out tan, and paled quickly - like, vampire pale. I was interested in books and learning, instead of sports and playing. I had glasses by 4th grade because I spent all my time on the computer. I was really nice - to the point where it was very easy to walk all over me. I thought "hey, who cares? I'll learn to adjust, and they'll get used to me." Oh how wrong I turned out to be...

From grades 1-7th I was hated. I got shoved around, ignored, called names. That was just the beginning. At first, it didn't really faze me. I still had some friends. However in 4th grade, I had been messing with fireworks. They were the kind that did the high pitch whistle sound - you know the ones. They had gone off near my ears, and that trauma caused something called hyperacusis.  This means certain pitched noises (or frequencies) hurt to listen to. For me, that was high pitched noises - like whistling.

Kids went NUTS over the fact that they had another method of hurting me. They blow whistles, mess with fireworks near my house, whistling right in my ears - anything that would hurt. 

I'd go to counselors, administrators, teachers, parents, ANYONE who would listen and possibly help. They couldn't do anything - they were just whistling after all. This went on until 7th grade. By then, I was a different person. I was no longer a dorky tomboy, I was a sleek goth. 

I dressed in all black, and had thick black eye liner. Eventually I got blue streaks in my brown hair (I never wanted to dye it black). Dressing dark was like having a blanket of darkness around me, it made me feel secure. I no longer allowed people to walk over me. I stood up for myself - sometimes even to the point of seeming like a female dog (you know the word). Seems like things were starting to get better, right? Wrong.

My self confidence and esteem had been shattered. I thought horribly of myself and others. I hung with a bad crowd, did bad things so I could escape from the world. I cut, did drugs, and locked myself away in my room. I eventually went on to attempt suicide 3 times, once almost dying. I was a broken girl.

Now, in 8th grade, I have begun to pick up the pieces. I stopped cutting, I cut out the drugs, and I'm at a new school, where I am no longer hated (in fact there's a group of kids like me!). I got therapy for my hyperacusis, and finally asked my parents to take me to therapy for my emotional and mental issues. I am going, and have been for a few weeks. Every week, I get better.

Now it all sounds like a happy ending right? Not yet, but close! 6th and 7th grade I graduated with honors, this year I am barely passing. This is because I had anger to fuel me, to give me energy. Now that the bullies are gone, I only have scars and sadness, which takes away a lot of energy. Thankfully, next year, in 9th grade, I get a fresh start in highschool. I have more energy and the willpower to actually take advanced classes. My happy ending is almost here.