Soboro wants me to find an outlet, and it's been hard. Hard, with a lot of trial and error. A lot more error than success..

As a child I was bullied. I was bullied a lot, and it has taken a long time to admit that. Just before I turned six I got hurt and it left a scar in my eye, and people picked on me all the time for it. At first it was the neighbor kids that picked on me, made sure I was left out of everything, tricked me into games like hide-and-seek, so that they could take off and play together at someone's house and not invite me, because I was different and looking different meant I didn't deserve friends. Years I believed that.. that I didn't deserve friends, and the few I had paid dearly for the way others had molded me to think of myself like that.

On my bus, for my first 8 years of school, we had assigned seats, and we were organized by first school and then by behavior and last name. So, generally speaking, it was The bad elementary schoolers by last name, then the good elementary schoolers by last name, then the middle schoolers in the same manner. For the eight years I sat next to this girl Anna, and for 8 years I had to sit on the inside of the seat because for eight years of my life, one of biggest things you could do is be a person that has an aisle seat on the bus, because if you didn't you weren't cool, and all I ever wanted was to fit in. Though, Anna was awful to me, something good did come out of it, the girl in front of me also had the same problem, and we became best friends.

Nicole and I, though six months and a whole grade a part, were pretty inseparable and out of all my friends she was the one that paid the most dearly for the way I felt about myself. I didn't trust her for years, and I would do these things I called "tests" and would treat her like absolute garbage; I legitimately treated her the way I felt about myself—like trash, and did it only to make myself feel better.. to her I was all those bullies that treated me like shit, and yet she stuck by me and was my best friend anyway. I think it was about fourth grade before I stopped being the biggest asshole on Earth to Nicole, and even then could still just be pretty terrible because that's just my personality (but Nicole plays such a big role in my life that I won't elaborate on that part of our relationship.. she deserves her own essay).

In middle school, from day one, there was a group of girls that focused on me. Middle School integrated two elementary school districts together, so I didn't know these three girls at all, and they didn't know me or anything about the eye scar yet, yet they focused their entire attention on me. For 3 years they made it so I couldn't use my assigned lockers.. I first shared lockers with friends, but when they started going after them too, I eventually had to leave my belongings in the office. There was many parent meetings between my Mama and these girls parents and a lot of punishments for them, but they were relentless and even the principal had not a clue as to what to do about these girls. They would jump me in the bathroom—if I really had to go I had to ask to go to the nurse's office or ask between classes for a teacher to come with me. They knock all my books out of my hands (no backpacks allowed), they made fun of me because I couldn't see and came from a not-so-well-off-family and didn't have glasses, then they made fun of me when I finally obtained glasses in the middle of eighth grade. When I started my period, it was in the middle of a class I had with all of them and they all knew and made sure they told absolutely everyone they could, then they would take my purse, go to my next class or whosever locker I was using, and decorate my entire desk/locker with every single pad I had, so that I would have to use the insanely big, bulky, pads that the nurse provided, so that they could run around and make fun of me with all kinds of un-repeatable names. They threw food at me, they would make me miss the afternoon bus home, and made sure it was impossible for me to make friends.. they were 100% the nightmare that middle schoolers dread. All I can say is that I never stood up for myself in those three years, and when we finally went to high school, my first week in this new building, I got lost, ended up in the wrong hallway, and surprise surprise they were there and decided that they were physically going to beat the crap out of me this time, and I stood up for myself. They didn't heed my words and when the first girl came charging at me I grabbed her by her hoop earrings.. needless to say they left me alone.

When I was 10 or so years old, Mr. Paul became a very big part of my life. Unfortunately Mr. Paul came with a monster—Mr. Paul had his mistress Diane in his life. Diane hates my existence on this Earth to this day, and her goal in life was (and probably still is) to make sure I was miserable as possible. My mama and Mommom's take on the way Diane treats me is that she is insanely jealous of me (an essay dedicated to Mr. Paul is in the works now, and you'll be enlightened on all the things that I don't go into detail now). So, as you already know, Mr. Paul made horses a possibility in my life, and Diane did everything in her power to try to take that away from me, and to take Mr. Paul away from me. Unlike Anna, there wasn't exactly going to be a point in my life where things were just going to change for me. As far as Anna goes, when we went to high school, a new bus picked us up, and that driver didn't care where we sat as long as we didn't fight—point being, there was going to be a change implemented regardless of what anyone wanted. Figuratively speaking, as far as Mr. Paul and Diane is concerned, there was no one saying I had to get on the bus with them, and there was no one saying I had to get off the bus that they were on, I had to make those decisions on my own. To not spoil the essay to come about Mr. Paul, I'll just get to the point—for 10 years I stayed on that bus, and did everything humanly possible to try to get Diane to like me, I sat in the front, in the back, on the steps, next to her, laid in the aisle, hid under the seats, stood on the back of the bus—on the bumper and held on by the handle of the emergency door, sat on the roof, hung onto the hood by the windshield wipers.. I did everything I could to please this woman and nothing worked. She hated me. She hated me, made Mr. Paul choose between her and I on multiple occasions, wouldn't let me go places with the horses, and if by some chance Mr. Paul won a fight with her and we both got to go, I sat in the back of the truck, and on the side of the fence, and never said a word but always telling myself the same thing ~I am nothing. I mean nothing. Saying anything, showing anything will trigger the monster inside this woman.~ I did this for 10 YEARS. I stood there, and told myself these exact words for years. She bullied me at every single opportunity she could manage.. hell, she even went out of her way to create opportunities for herself. She was so mean to me, and she was so aware of what she was doing to me that sometimes she would even do things like call me, tell me that she would really like to make our relationship work for Mr. Paul's sake and that they were going somewhere with the horses and would really like it if I joined them, and to be ready and meet them at the farm at x time, and I would be there. I would show up, they would be long gone with the horses, and I would call her first, she won't pick up, then I will call Mr. Paul and he would answer and I would tell him I'm at the farm, and he would say that he left HOURS prior or sometimes worse, they were already on their way back from wherever. She went out of her way to get my hopes up and she was going to treat me like a person and not just some stray, mange-ridden dog.

The worse of all the bullies I've encountered thus far, are from my very own flesh and blood, and I was 12 when I was finally able to get away from them—that is the monster of a father I had, and his mother. I don't know if I'll ever actually elaborate on those relationships though, so for now just roll with it. They were awful awful people.

Soboro wants me to find an outlet, and it's been hard. It's been hard because I know me best, and what I can tell you is that the best outlets for me are found outside. His mother is a bully and she has something to say to about anything I'm doing. Not to me of course, because she couldn't dare talk to such trash, but to Soboro. If I want to go out and play with my puppy, she has something to say about the dog defecating, if I go out to play in the yard with the baby, she has something to say about how she's dressed, or how close to a meal time it was so she doesn't think I'm making sure she's getting proper care.. oh there are other things but for the sake of this essay, she treats me like garbage and I can't even step outside without feeling like my every action is being scrutinized and critically analyzed for fault. I don't know what to do, but Soboro wants me to find an outlet, and find it fast.. so here I am trying to figure out what I could use as an outlet.