via Daily Prompt: Or

Or what? What happens if I don’t listen to you, and all of your suggestions for how I should live my life? I may just be a typical teen when I say this, but you don’t know a thing about me. You don’t know a thing about me when you say I should go to public school to better prepare myself for life. I’ve told you that I went to public school, was bullied, and had an anxiety disorder, but what you don’t know is that I was suicidal. I wanted to die every day that I was there, and that awful girl who bullied me only encouraged it. One day she said the words that will forever echo in my head “You should just make the world a better place and kill yourself.”

She didn’t know either. She had no clue what I was going through. To her, it was just something to say to be mean. She didn’t know that she was a part of  the reason I begged my mom to let me stay home every day. She was just a mean girl in middle school, but she has left a mark on my life forever.

When you told me to go to public school, you didn’t know that I was a victim of sexual harassment and attempted rape. You didn’t know that the only reason I wasn’t raped when I was pinned against the wall of the bus and that boy was working on unzipping his pants was because the bus arrived at his stop just in time. The only reason it got delayed enough that that bus stop was able to save it was because I didn’t stop talking, and it kept him distracted just enough to keep him from unzipping his pants. It was only when his friend realized what I was doing and told him that I found myself pinned against the wall instead of just sitting in the seat next to him as he told me what he wanted/ was going to do, while his hand loomed over his zipper. You didn’t know all that when you told me I talk too much and should just learn to be quiet so that when I do speak my words will have more value.

Don’t you dare tell me what to do with my life. Don’t tell me when to speak, what to say, where to go, or what to do. I’m not the same as you, and I never will be. Unlike you, I know how to treat people younger than me with respect, and I know that different people live different lives. You’ve said I don’t know what bad things are and you treat me like a sheltered homeschooler, but I do. I do know, and I think it’s you who just doesn’t know that bad things happen to everyone. We all live on different scales, and every person has experienced victory and tragedy in their life. When you win the final game of the season, how would you like to be told that it doesn’t matter because other people have won better things? That’s what you and so many other people do in the opposite direction to people with mental disorders, and it hurts. If you punched me in the stomach, and walked away as I lie crying on the pavement, it would hurt less.

You’ve already hurt me with your words. Don’t hurt anyone else. Or what you might ask? Or you’ll find yourself in trouble one day when finally you step too far over the boundary, and your words set a domino effect in motion that ends with something YOU consider bad happening.


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