I was first bullied when I was around three years old. There were these two kids who were brother and sister. They lived across the street from me and would mostly steal my toys and call me names. Some of the time my mom would have to go across the street and ask for my toys back from their mother, who would only after a lot of convincing give them back. Eventually they moved away when I was five and for that I was extremely thankful. It wasn't over yet though.

In elementary school I was talked about behind my back. I trudged through it, making friends and keeping a smile on my face. I didn't think much of it; I just thought it was normal for people to be made fun of behind their back. I remember in fifth grade, a girl would purposely take my pencil from my hand while I was writing down notes or step down hard on my foot. I also remember I used to tutor her in math class in third grade, so I didn't understand what I did to deserve such treatment.

Middle school rolled around and we had moved to a new city. I was just the shy, quiet kid who had no friends. I was happy that no one paid attention to me. But then we moved again because of my parents' divorce. I started a new middle school and became more outgoing. Unfortunately, the bullying started up again.

I was called a loser, ugly, and a faggot, because of my sexuality. I had come to terms with the fact that I was bisexual. That, along with other things happening in my family, led me to start cutting. I would wait for the bell to ring and run off to the bathroom to pick at the scabbed over cuts covering my thigh.

It's now summer and I'm starting a new middle school. It's eighth grade and my last year, which means next year I'll have to go to high school with them. Not only that, but I'm terrified of what will happen at my new middle school. I'm thirty days clean from the razor and I don't want to give in. I've recently started taling antidepressants, so that helps too.

I've made a promise to not let bullying control my life. If it happens again, I'll tell someone. I'll reach out for help. Last time I didn't and I ended up in the hospital from a suicide attempt. I won't let this win. I will become stronger. I have a reason to live, I have two beautiful little sisters and a handsome little brother looking up to me. I promise that I won't fail them. There is someone out there who needs you. Keep living and stay strong for them. And we will get through this, I promise. It gets better.