When I was five years old, I moved from Puerto Rico. I spoke no English and lived in a neighborhood of white kids. I tried to make friends, my bad accent seemed to confuse all of them. I was nice, kind, and happy. I wanted a friend more than anything in the world, really.

Then this kid that lived in my neighborhood started to hurt me. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I remember he talked about how much he hated me. I never understood why he and other kids could hate someone they didn't know, or understand. But there I was, facing this boy.

Not long after, the ENTIRE neighborhood joined in on the fun. Girls spread rumors about me. Another boy started to beat me up. I reported it to my school. Not much disciplinary action was taken. My mother hated the fact someone would lay a hand on me. Was upset I didn't stand up for myself. I was scared. I was small, skinny, and didn't know how to fight.

So, for years, this continued. I did stand up to the physical bully. The first one. But then, he decided to extend it to my younger siblings. That was when I fought back. My little sister cried and bled from her mouth. Blood soaking her once white shirt. He hurt my younger cousin.

I decided enough was enough. We had an altercation when I was 7. I swung one last time and he flew back in the direction of the moving bus. Almost being hit by it.

I decided a year later, that being nice was not going to get me respected and treated equally. I misbehaved. Stole. Vandalized. Shoplifted. Destroyed. I was a massive force of anger and hate. Kids were afraid of me. I felt powerful because it was I who was damaging those who hurt me. Those who lied about me. Those who punched and kicked me. Those who spat on me because I was much more worthless than the ground I walked on. I was threatened with juvie on MULTIPLE occasions. Never served a day for what I have done.

My grandmother cried, realizing that I will be in prison for what I have done. If I continued. I wanted to hurt those kids who made me feel so low. Little did I know, I was no different from them in acting like the way I did. I quit misbehaving.

I made friends with one of those kids. She was my best friend. As close as I was to her, I still kept my darker feelings inside. I told her once and she had me seek help. I stopped talking to her about worse feelings coming up.

The bullying escalated when I was twelve. While things at home were falling and shattering around me, kids hurt me. I was pushed, shoved, hit, and had WORSE rumors spread about me. A kid was walking around school saying I was had sex with the kid. Which WASN'T true. This person talked about what "we" supposedly did in bed. I was made fun of in the locker room as well in gym. My depression and other mental disorders caused me to have to take heavy medication. I gained weight.

Now, these kids made fun of my body. The rumors were no help either. I didn't know where to go. If I reported, I would be a snitch. If I stayed quiet, I would still be hurt. It was all a dead end to me.

I cut myself. Burned myself with cigarettes. I thought by cutting, I could express the shame I felt. I felt I let everyone down.

After other events in my life, I decided to end it all and hang myself.

I wrote a note and strapped it to my basket ball short waistline, I wrapped my curtain around my neck while sitting on the top bunk in my room. I watched the outside world. So colorful, beautiful while my world was so black and white. I tied the knot and watched the sky glowing blue.

I jumped.

The curtain wrapped tightly around my neck. My legs dangled kicking the air. My lungs burned and my head pounded. I could almost hear the names these kids called me.

Stupid.

Idiot.

Worthless.

A waste of space.

Stars sparkled in front of me. My fingers curled and relaxed. I was too weak to move. Coldness was consuming me. My vision was fading. I was blacking out from time to time. Twitching.

I thought about everything.

I was afraid what happens next. What happens after I die? What will happen to my siblings? My family?

I realized I had more to fight for. I used the strength I had left in me to pull and break the thick curtain. My body collapsed onto the floor. I gasped for air. I crawled to my bathroom next to my room. I leaned against the wall, facing the mirror. My eyes had darker circles underneath. Turns out, those type of circles don't appear unless someone died or was close to death. I cried, for hours in that bathroom. I washed my face, put on a turtle neck to cover my bruise, and continued with my day. My family didn't know what happened until years later.

I admit, there were more attempts before the one I mentioned. Failing. I tried overdosing, the medications were too low of a dose to kill me. But it did put me to sleep sometimes for an entire day. I had no gun. I tried to take those medications and drown myself in a bathtub. The bath was too small and my body didn't slump far enough into the water.

Alcohol and cigarettes DEFINITELY didn't help me with this. It only made me realize I was much more alone because I didn't have anyone to talk to me about.

I was in therapy for three or four years.

I did come around in 8th grade. I was happier. I was still bullied but it didn't bothered me as often. Most of the kids moved away from my neighborhood. Everything was fading away.

There was still the issue with rumors. I eventually made peace and friends her.

Things did turn around for me. I accomplished many things. I used this experience to remind me to be humble. To love others. To care for someone like I wanted someone to do for me when I was alone.

Ten years being bullied, does

As great as things turned out for me, the negative feelings still linger in me. My self esteem is still at an all time low. The reminders I see on my body don't help. I kept my note I wrote that day I jumped. It sits in a box. Reminding me how far I came. I smile from time to time, remembering the good I did.

The majority of the story is hidden. For reasons I cannot say. It is this story that many see in my eyes and mistake it for something else. It is the origin of my motivation, my inspiration to fight. Many ask me where I get this energy and will to stop at nothing until I get a smile, a laugh even. Sometimes, it takes living a lonely life to appreciate good company and to value a friendship.

For any bully reading this, your words and actions do hurt. Hurting people like those kids did to me does push someone to do things they will regret. The jokes, punches, and rumors, are not funny or cool. If you are strong as you act, stand up for someone. Lift them, build them up. That is what true strength does. That is what real courage is.

Victims, you are not alone. It feels like it may never end. It will, if something doesn't happen, make it happen. Stand up and fight as best as you can for a better tomorrow. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You CAN and WILL make it through this.

For those who are depressed or suicidal, it does get better. It may not seem like it. Trust me when I say, there was more to this story. When you rise up and do that one last stand, and fight with all you got, then make it though... it is such a wonderful feeling. I am not saying to give up, I am saying that if you are as close as I was, to give it another try. Fight. Your strength might even surprise you. There is something bigger and better waiting for you in the other side of this storm. Hold on with EVERYTHING and ANYTHING you got.

I would like to thank those bullies for testing me and forcing me to grow stronger. For making me realize what real strength means. What it takes. I thank all of my "friends" who left and one who stayed. My best friend after 6 years, needed to take a different path. I will always love her and she was like blood to me. May you learn and see many things in life. Until we meet again.

And I would like to thank my friend "FRIEND1." FRIEND1 is an amazing inspiration and motivation for me to be someone better. Thanks for sticking with me. I know a friend worth fighting for when I see one. Thanks for all the great memories you gave me and for the memories we will make.