rm_jynxgurl 29F
175 posts
1/21/2006 9:12 pm

Last Read:
6/22/2007 12:38 am


I was cleaning my room today when I came across an old poem I wrote long ago.
I remember the circumstances surrounding that poem...

I was in eighth grade at the time,
A year full of misery for me.
The only year of school that I was unpopular.
Before that year
No one had ever bugged me,
No one had ever picked on me.
Others had been, some my friends, but not me.

Growing up you see the hurt,
What people feel the need to inflict on others.
You feel pity, but do nothing about it.
You think you can understand the pain they go through;
You can't possibly imagine...
Only by experiencing it can you possibly comprehend.

That year we were learning how to write poems.
I wrote stupid corny stuff,
What the teacher wanted to hear,
Not what I felt like writing.

I tried to write without feeling,
Yet somehow something meaningfull wormed its way in.
That poem spoke truth to me.
So much so I found myself near tears when I read it outloud,
Luckily not in front of the class.

Never, ever tell anything to people who mean you harm.
That whole class meant me harm.

They teased me about my very uncool step dad,
They teased me about my unfashionable clothes,
They teased me about how I talked.
They teased me about how I spent all my time reading,
They teased me about how I bent over close to my paper as I drew,
They teased me about how little my family had.

When they ran out of material
They did not stop,
They made it up.
Many, many horrible rumours...

They tired of teasing me,
so they became creative.
They smashed any work I left at school,
They stole my calculater before every math test.
They stole my precious special art supplies,
They tore any work they could snatch.
They made it so there was no possible way to outdo them at school anymore.
I almost failed that year because of them.

Teachers noticed all of this but turned a blind eye.
When my marks got too low they had to acknowledge something.
So they decided to have a talk with them.
They called me out of class,
When I returned they were worse.

They knocked over my books,
They pushed and shoved and tripped me up.
They put hotglue in my hair,
They threw erasers and clay and gum into my hair.
Anywhere I sat down they got up and moved.
Anywhere I went they pretended I did not exist.

I used to be popular,
I knew the golden rule to never tattle.
Not that it mattered,
Stupid goddam teachers making it worse.

One person stood up for me,
She told them they were being mean and to stop.
It was a ploy to make herself seem nice,
She didn't give a damn if they killed me,
As long as she could be popular,
Who gave a damn about me?

My mom did, she was worried about my drop in marks.
I never told her what was going on in school,
She already had too much to deal with.
After my step dad had a heart attack,
She did not need more problems...

I had one defence against the bullies at school,
I could block them out.
I could distance myself from everything,
In my own little world.

Till my own mother took that away from me.
As if dealing with the kids in my class wasn't bad,
The adults had to stick in thier own form of punishment.
They put me on redelin,
I was drugged into paying attention to my torturers.

No more happy world to escape to,
Everyday my head buzzed.
I heard every whisper,
Felt every injury,
No where to escape.

Even home was bad,
My step dad had become depressed you see.
He was always home because he was sick.
Everyday I came home from my horrible life of rumours,
Coming home to more insults,
These ones held alot more hurt.

My step dad was even worse.
He teased me about everthing,
Didn't even have to make things up.
He knows my past,
He uses it against me.

He reopened old wounds,
Twisting things,
Making everything horrible.
He used my dad leaving me when I was little.
My most painfull wound.
My step dad knew it and used it.
I didn't even have anywhere to cry...

I was distant from my mother at that time,
Nor could I tell her anything anyways,
It was my problem, not hers.
I couldn't tell my sister,
She was ashamed that I was so unpopular.
She didn't give a damn about my life...

One day one of my classmates presented thier poem.
A poem about loners,
Another dig at me.
Saying how lonely it was,
Saying how sad it was,
All corny bullshit about wolves howling and other nonesense.
Always glancing at me.

How dare she? What the hell did she know?
She, who had aided and abeded them.
She, who was always surrounded with people.
She, who had perfect hair.
She, who had expensive clothing.
She, who had never been alone in her life.
How could she presume to know?

She didn't.

How could she know what it felt like?
What it felt like with no one to talk to.
What it felt like to have everyone reject you,
What it felt like to have your family reject you.
What it felt like to have nowhere to feel safe,
What it felt like to have nowhere to cry.
What it felt like to have everthing you tried to do ruined.
What it felt like to have the last bit of protection stolen away from you.
What it felt like to have nothing of any value.
What it felt like to hide.

She had no clue, no one did.
How dare they presume to know anything!!!

You think you know loneliness, you don't!!
You can't even imagine, don't even try!!
Don't cry and say you are sorry, you aren't!!
Don't give sympathy, you don't have any!!
Don't presume to know how I feel, you can't!!
Don't talk of things you can't possibly understand!!

Do you think you are safe?
That that can never happen to you?
Think again, for today I have seen something.
I have seen one of my former torturers,
She was alone, being picked on.

Now in a position of power that popularity allows,
I have some power to make this stop.
However if I do, I will make myself open for a fall.
I will never go back to that.

Being unpopular did not teach me to be nice:
Being unpopular taught me to be mean.
Being unpopular taught me survival.
Being unpopular means I know,
I know what it means to be truly alone.

I will never go back to that,
Even if it means joining the horrible "they".
Don't think you would not do the same,
You probably already have.

Do not judge what you do not know!!

sassybelle21 32F
13313 posts
1/21/2006 11:15 pm

Girlie it always sounds painful to read what you have to write. It breaks my heart. I hope life is treating you better these days. Much love

_Safira 53F
11260 posts
1/22/2006 11:08 am

Jynxie ~ I'm so glad to see you getting out this shite, sharing it with us! You're right ... NO ONE SHOULD JUDGE. Love you, Sweetie! *massive hugs*

This is my blog - Comes With Warning Labels. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

RECOMMENDED READING: A F F ... The Only Site For Me?

duststormdiva 51F
6854 posts
1/22/2006 11:35 am

I hope your adult life treats you better. *hugs*


aascrompn 42M
6444 posts
1/22/2006 1:03 pm

Jynx - Now that you've dealt w/ your past, just know that dealing w/ your future is a whole lot easier! You have the ability to change to anything that you want to be. I did it. I don't judge you in any way. I think you are brilliant!

MyRealLoverOne 46M

1/22/2006 1:15 pm

jinxie, we really do care about you sweetie. Let me know if you ever want to talk. Just send me an email and I will give you info on how to reach me....

Big (((Hugs)))

MillsShipsGayly 51M

1/23/2006 8:39 am

My first post on your blog so I hope it will be taken in the right light. No judging here ..

There is a cycle of abuse from one generation to the next that is well documented. So hard for people who have been mistreated to be kind:

Being unpopular did not teach me to be nice:
Being unpopular taught me to be mean.
Being unpopular taught me survival.

Those words cut harshly (incredibly well writen)!!!!

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