The Recovery

I have never really fit in anywhere. As a Freshman in high school, I look back and realize that every year I was verbally, physically, and emotionally abused at school, and up until I was eleven, it happened at home, too. The only safe place I had was my best friend's home, and even there I was picked on. 

When I turned eleven, I had moved from Florida to New York, a little away from where I was born. During this time, my step father's abuse became worse against my mother and I, and I was the new kid at school, immediately labelled as an outcast. Soon after, my mom had to leave our home with us kids or else social workers were going to take me away.

Times were hard. My mom had my two brothers, my sister, and myself to take care of. We had moved again to live with my aunt while the messy divorce began. Being the new kid again was even worse. It was now a heavily populated school, and every kid took their shots at me because I was a really socially awkward kid.

When my mom got back on her feet, the court had ordered her to move back where we were living because of the residential custody. Her ex husband didn't receive any punishment because I couldn't testify legally, since I wasn't his kid.

In sixth grade was when everything went down hill, the bullying increased, and one February morning I finally broke. I told my mom I wanted to die, so I was admitted for a week in the hospital.

Now, at fifteen, I live with my dad and I try my best to help out other kids by standing up for them. Some people in my school go through hell, but so far I haven't been bullied this year, and I've stood up for those who are. 

The way I look at it is, we all have voices, so why not use them?

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