Boot Leg Barbie

This next one has probably happened to all of us. I was bullied from the young age of five to the age of sixteen. It all began in kindergarten, it wasn't that terrible at first. We all were five, so the worst they could do was laugh at me and just ignore me. I think it was because I didn't know how to listen or anything. It continued in first, second and third grade. Fourth grade was when it really started getting bad. I came home crying every day, my mom was at work so she didn't know. I didn't feel comfortable talking about it, unless I had to. Then middle school came along, that's when the depression and anxiety started settling in. Every day at school I was on the outside looking in. I had "friends" or what you would call "fake friends." No one wanted to be my real friend. Everyone started calling me "Boot Leg Barbie, Lady Gaga, and flat chested." One day I was in the woods and this guy we'll call him H. Anyways H was calling me all these terrible things and I finally had enough and I started saying no. I guess he decided he wasn't going to take that, and he lit a match that he had. He said I remember this so vividly, "If you don't shut up and walk away I will light your hair on fire." I stood there blanked faced. I guess he took that as I wasn't leaving. He threw the match at me it was still lit. Luckily I jumped out the way in time to avoid getting hit by it. I told my mom what happened, she took me up to the school. We talked to the SRO and he asked me what happened. Then he talked to his mom. I remember everyone making fun even more after that. I don't really remember eighth grade. So fast forward to high school. I'm at a whole new school with new people. It's going great. I have amazing teachers. My favorite class was English, but the students in that class can be a little mean to some of us. Especially to me and my friend. But skip ninth and tenth grade. I failed tenth grade, so I had to repeat. That year was probably the worst year of my life. I got some news and I got harshly bullied. I was thinking I couldn't do this anymore. What is the point? I decided I couldn't do this anymore. I tried to commit suicide. That didn't end up working because I felt like I wanted to live after everything I've been through. I called my one friend R, and told her to call my mom because I couldn't. She did, my mom called  911 and they came and got me. Honestly I don’t know why or what got me to call my friend that day, but I’m glad I did. If that thought didn't come to mind I wouldn't be here today. My depression got the best of me. It tore me down, tore me away from everyone. After everything that has happened I realized you can’t take things for granted. I’m getting better and taking it one day at time, I’ll have to tell you about that one later.