Four years ago, I began middle school. Four months into school year, I told a few friends about my self harming problems. I wanted help from them, not attention. When I walked around the back of the school during lunch, I would always hear "cutter", "emo", or other nasty definitions people I hardly knew gave me. Someone finally reported me to a counselor and my parents were informed. They told me how disappointed in me they were. They wanted me to go to a psychiatrist but I refused. Doctors make me have anxiety attacks. Seventh and Eighth grade were okay. I pretended I fit it. I tried out for the cheerleading squad and eventually was made a co-captain. Freshman year was not nearly good. I made the JV cheerleading squad, because no freshman was allowed on varsity. I stayed on the squad from June to September. I quit because my "cheer friends" laughed at me all the time. The way I laughed, my cheer facials, anything. For a while, I thought they were jealous because I was capable of doing things that they weren't. It felt like ages before I got into the car and confided in my grandma that I didn't want to be in a sport that mattered so much to me. Cheer had been an outlet for a lot of negative emotions and it went sour. I quit the team, and had the living crap beat out of me by a varsity girl who I met in the sixth grade. I thought she was one of my closest friends. I was very wrong. During the time of losing something I loved, I was lied to by my "best friend" that resulted in me having to get a ride home in a police car, my parents telling me that they were getting a divorce that same night, and the first time I had been "cheated on" by a boy. There was so much stress. But I didn't give in to the desire of hurting myself, as strange as that sounds. Throughout the year, the rumors kept getting worse and closer to home. People that had my utmost trust at some point made up lies and spread them around. One day, I was crying my eyes out in class, and my teacher didn't do jack squat. I asked him if I could go in the bathroom for a while and he grunted yes. That ended in another meeting with a counselor. Also, my decision to graduate a year early, because high school is terrible. I've been called every name in the book and I've had many, many false stories made about me. Stuff like that gets in your head and grows like weeds until you can't handle it. I ended up cutting for the first time in a long time. I feel terrible about it. Losing people that you think matter is hard, especially if its due to their mouth that won't stay shut or a mind that will speak lies.