The Dance (teenage story of stupidity)

I think it was February ? I know it was close after the Valentine’s Dance at school that it all went down like it did.

My boyfriend had accused me of cheating. I was trying to take my best friend at the time (who was a guy) to the dance instead of him, because my friend was alone.

So he accused me of cheating. He threatened me. So I turned and walked off. But once again, I was alone, by myself. I was wandering amoungst the people, swaying side to side and “Gettin’ down wif it” to each song, attempting to avoid him, hoping he would avoid me.

Sadly, I had to go home with him that night. Where he tried to sleep with me. I was distraught. Was that all I was ever good for ? It depressed me.

So the next day, we broke up. Well, I left. He got angry, then dated one of my friend girls, who I was very close to. I couldn’t believe they would do that to me. So, it depressed me further and further.

Then, my best friend dated me. But he made me cry too, sometimes, he hit me. I left him too. He still harassed me.

I was getting deeper and deeper into my pain, and soon I was afraid to talk to people. I avoided my teachers’ gaze, and rarely spoke in class, even when asked to.

I started to cut myself. Which, made the Mean Girls at my school talk.

Soon, I was called out in the hallway and bathrooms, even the locker rooms. They called me a slut for “sleeping with every guy I meet” and called me stupid because I wouldn’t speak up in class. One day, the girls noticed my arm sleeves falling, and grabbed my wrist and ripped it down. “OMG guys ! She cuts !” the blonde one yelled out. She then proceeded to shove me into the locker room walls and told me in my ear quietly “Go die B*tch.” The other ones took turns smacking my face, and my cuts, and calling me “Crazy B*tch” and “Stupid Whore”, Skank, blood lover, all of it, those were my names, even when I stood my ground. I’m kinda small for my age, so they pushed me back down on the cold ground.

I skipped gym that day.

When I got home, my mom wasn’t there. I started to cry, and my brother just walked out the door. He didn’t wanna handle it.

I felt alone.

I went and got my mom’s gun, and just sat at my window, waiting to see the moon light up the night, so I could see the moon one more time.

I put the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger…

Unfortunately, there were no bullets. I was pissed. I wanted to die ! Why did that happen ?

Suddenly, a kid from my brother’s church called me. He said he felt like I needed someone there for me.

He is now my boyfriend.

I never set back foot in the Valentine’s Dance

And haven’t touched another gun since.

*This is a true story. If you don’t believe me, that’s your problem.*