Words Can Hurt

Ivy - Springdale, Arkansas
Entered on October 7, 2008

I have never gone to a school for more than one year. Each year I walk through the glass doors never knowing what to expect. The new girl, what will they think? Everyone here has gone to school with each other since kindergarten. All the cliques were formed. I had no idea where I would fit in. In third grade we moved to McKinney, Texas. Quickly I made many friends, one of which was very different. That’s why I liked her. She wasn’t like anybody else. Her name was Gabrielle. Everyone made fun of her because she was from Russia and had a funny accent. Gabby did what she could to fit in; she wore the same clothes everyone else did, she joined gymnastics, she even wore makeup. After awhile she started becoming like a clone. After awhile this got boring. All the popular kids liked her and she started to fit in. Gabby’s presence was scarce around my house and she barley talked to me anymore. The popular kids like Bryn, Alex, Kayliegh and now Gabby all made fun of me for various reasons. Some being because I dressed differently, the way I wore my hair, and any other flaws they could find. The words hurt, but one day at recess they were making fun of a weird girl, Abigail. I knew just what to do, so I walked over, grabbed Abigail’s hand and said,”Hey Abigail! I was wondering if you wanted to come and sleepover at my house.” All those snobby girls stared in awe because the new girl had a friend.

My mom and dad never married and ever since I can remember they’ve been apart. When I was seven, to much of my dismay, they both married other people and moved on. Currently I am living with my step mom and let me tell you, it’s not a walk on the beach. She reads my diary and forms her own opinions about me, she reads my notes, my stories, and my personal things which say words and content that was only meant for my eyes. Just the other day I was folding the towels and she called me an idiot for not having enough sense to turn all the lights on. My step mom and I don’t get along very well, but I try. Every time she calls me a name, I block it all out and think of the positive things. I think of how I can brighten everyone else’s day and may not be able to brighten my own and how I’m outgoing, pretty, smart, cheerful, and so much more that makes me realize words can hurt, but it takes courage and strength not to let them.