In the halls of my middle school, I felt like a ghost, invisible to everyone except the bullies who made my life a living hell. Every day, they taunted me, mocked my appearance, and tripped me in the hallway.
I tried to ignore them, but the constant harassment wore me down. One day, pushed to my limit, I finally snapped. When the ringleader, Jake, shoved me into a locker, I swung back, landing a punch square on Jake’s nose.
The satisfaction of retaliation was fleeting as the principal’s office became my next destination. Despite explaining my side, I was met with a stern lecture on violence and the consequences of my actions.
But in that moment of defiance, something shifted within me. I realized that standing up for myself didn’t have to involve fists. It meant finding the courage to speak out, seeking help from trusted adults, and refusing to let the bullies define me.
That night my dad came into my room and savagely beat with a set of jumper cables for getting in trouble.