Disclaimer; Writing is my way to express my feelings, as when I talk I either end up shouting, stuttering, or crying of the events I tell. Even so, I would like to reach out to those who are bullies and victims. To those who are suicidal, and those who are no longer here. To get to my point, I would like to set out a story about comfort. I have watched and read many things about bullying and suicide, and I feel this may be my only way to reach out. I know how terribly hard it is to lose someone, and I hope to get my point across. To the bullies, stop. You have problems and are making yourself feel "better" by torturing others. If you need help, talk to someone. You have to power in your hands to terminate all things evil that come from your mouth or from physical contact. To the victims, all of you are beautiful, wonderful, funny, charismatic, handsome, strong, smart, and most of all you are unique. Bullies pick on us because of these things, they are jealous and need a reason to hurt someone else. Most of all, the pick on us because we have one thing they don't, we have the will power to keep strong while they pick away our guard, we have the will power to be ourselves, and we are not afraid to admit what we do whether it be wrong or right, we admit to it. Do bullies do that?
"You are nothing! Worthless, ugly, retard that takes up too much space!" My father slurred as he swung his fist, it connected with the wall besides my head. This man had caused pain to us, to me. Sadly, he wasn't always this way. Before he was such a wonderful man, full of joy and he had once loved us. That, of course, was before my mother had past away.
"I am something, father." I spoke confidently.
"No, you are not, Wendy." He slurred, putting his face inches away from my own. "No one ever loved you, no one could ever love you."
"Mother did," I stated, "And once, so did you."
"Blast it!" He groaned, "Your mother never loved you! I never loved you!"
"Yes," I replied, tears coming to my eyes, "You did once, she did and she still does."
"My, Wendy, so naive! Stop telling yourself this." His words become more and more confident.
"I will tell myself the truth, one you will never give away." I stood, unwavering as tears threatened to spill.
He swung, hard. I ducked his blow and ran. Out of this life that had been such a perfect facade and out into reality. His screams and protests carried to my ears, but I still ran. I forced the tears down, I let lose of all my thoughts of my family. Holding on dearly to the ones of my mother and the stories she told us. They were all fake, but good use of imagination. Why, I wished imaginations did meet reality, maybe then I could get away from this mess.
I sat down, hard. The sidewalk was empty at this time. Midnight was no place for a young girl to be, yet here I am. Catching my breathe, reality started to sink in. I had left my home, and my little brothers with my abusive father. No where to sleep tonight. Might as well let my imagination run free, back to the tales of childhood and my mother. I wrapped my arms around myself, careful of any bruises. Closing my eyes I drifted off. Dreaming of pirates, mermaids, fairies, Indians, Peter Pan, and The Lost Boys.
"Wendy, wake up. Wendy." I felt someone shake me. I sighed, and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a pair of green eyes. Followed by a mess of golden locks, I sat bolt upright.
"Who are you?" I wondered aloud.
"Why, Wendy don't you remember me? I'm Peter Pan!" The boy grinned.
"No, you're nothing but a fairy tale." I spoke, wide eyed.
He grabbed my hand, and I felt like I was flying. Looking down, I saw that we were. I muffled a scream, clinging to the boy's shirt.
"Believe me now?"
"Why, no. This is just a dream. I am asleep."
He pinched my arm, earning a respective ouch from me.
"What about now?"
"Yes, I believe you now."
"Wendy, why were you out on the street?"
"My father is very abusive, so I ran away."
"Forever?"
"Forever, and I'd rather not go back."
"Tell me about it?"
And so I told him. I had never felt so safe with anyone besides my mother. He held me when I cried, and spoke small words of reassurance. He made me happy, and forget my problems about my parents. So, when he asked me to stay in Neverland with him, this time I said yes.
Disclaimer; I just want to put it out there that if you're alone, find someone you can trust, and that makes you happy, and stay with them forever.