It was fifth grade, and I wanted so bad to fit in. Most say I grew up way too fast, but I didn't know what I was doing. All the girls in my class had boyfriends, so naturally I thought I should be getting one two. A guy started liking me and so we started talking, "dating" if you could even call it that. He was manipulative and he wasn't someone I should've been involved with. But they say you learn from your mistakes, right? Oh, I learned.

Summer before sixth grade rolls around and him and I aren't speaking. We're friends on Facebook (big mistake) and he finds a picture of me. His comment read, and I still remember it exactly to this day, "Ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen." I deleted it immediately. It felt like someone had stabbed me in the chest, kicked me in the stomach and knocked the breath out of me. I felt sick to my stomach and I didn't know what to do. I had hoped my parents didn't see the comment. I didn't want them getting involved, please, I just wanted them to stay out of it. I could handle it on my own.

I couldn't. They got involved because he kept sending them friend requests, and they denied each time. It got so serious my mom threatened to call the cops for stalking. He stopped after that.

But the bullying itself didn't stop. We went to the same middle school, oh joy. But we didn't have classes together, thank god. Actually, no.

It gave him room to spread rumors that I would have no idea about. There was one going around at one time that I was a slut. Another that I was dating him. Another that we had /slept together/. We never had sex. I was in sixth grade and I was so naive I didn't even know what sex was or how to kiss someone. All I knew was how to be friends. Relationships were never brought up to me.

Eventually I shot them down and ignored them, making them go away. But he wouldn't stop staring. He knew rumors weren't enough so he stared. In the hallways. In the lunch room. When we happened to be in the library at the same time. Everywhere. I couldn't escape.

It was so bad that I missed literally weeks of school at a time because I couldn't seem to get out of bed. I couldn't move. I didn't want to.

The doctor said I tested positive for mono. I knew I wasn't. I knew it was something else. But I didn't know what. And at the time I wasn't introduced to depression. I didn't know what it was. I do now.

I remember getting so much anxiety walking down a hallway by myself because I didn't know if I would meet him. And if I did what would he do. The cameras didn't work in that school, no one would ever had known.

My heart used to pound so hard walking into lunch. I was petrified. I wasn't just petrified. I had developed an anxiety disorder. Depression soon tagging along, or maybe it had been there all along and I never knew.

He moved away in the summer before seventh, but the stares still haunted my dreams. And every time the phone rang I got so scared that it was him. I would jump up and look at the phone, heart racing and breathing heavily. It was never him.

Even though he moved, the anxiety and depression and self-esteem and body image issues he caused never left. They're still here, three years later. And I'm trying to work on them now, but it doesn't seem right.

I remember seeing someone going to therapy and thinking I would never be that kid. But now I am. Anyone can be bullied. It doesn't matter who you are. It can happen. Kids are cruel. Adults are cruel. The world is cruel.

I hope to stick it out and raise a child who /won't/ have to recover from their childhood. Because trust me, it sucks.