It was the second day of sixth grade. I was excited to go to school. Always had been. I was one of those kids that LOVED school. I loved learning. I loved seeing my friends. Hated gym, but otherwise school was great.
That day. The second day.
Everything changed.
I don’t know what did it. What happened. I still didn’t have my braces (those would come the following summer), or glasses (not until about February of 6th grade), or even zits (but boy would those ever hit in 7th grade).
Nothing had changed.
I hadn’t changed.
But suddenly no one would talk to me.
Friends I had known for the past two years. LAughed with. Shared a lunch table. Slept over their house.
I was dead to them.
Janet.
A girl I didn’t know. In a school our size it was easy to not know everyone in your grade level.
For the first time she was in my class.
She was the “IT” girl.
SHE declared me “uncool”. A “dork”. “NERD”.
I was done for.
They say words can never hurt you.
Those words did hurt.
I was always very sensitive. A crybaby.
The words made me cry.
They took what little self esteem I had and stomped it under their cruel little letters.
Suddenly kids 2 years younger than me were just fine with abusing me. With words. With actions.
I was spit on.
Picked on.
Hit.
Left alone in the corner of the cafetorium.
Picked on by the kids that had been on the bottom of the totem pole just the year before.
Outcast.
I would have preferred sticks and stones.
To the stigma.
The stain.
Of words.
****
Part 2 of an ongoing (if slow going) series. More to come soon.
I can relate. Words do hurt, no matter if people say they don’t. It must be hard to write about this even now, thank you for sharing.