It's a new year.

It’s a new year.

For a while, I’ve felt that I should share my story with all of you. You are the most dedicated and appreciative readers I could’ve asked for. Your listen, and you care about the well-being of others. I want to share with you something that I’ve wished for on every new years day, and I hope that some of you are able to receive the message I am trying to convey. Most of you know I hated high school with a passion, and that things were never easy - many of you have experienced that yourselves. In college, things have been so much better, but the memories still exist, and nothing will ever take them away. What I am about to share is tough to do, but I want you to know that if you are ever in a similar situation, I will have your back.

All my life, at the beginning of the year, I’ve always thought this year will be better than the rest. In elementary school, I wished to be as popular as everyone else and for the bullies to stop, in middle school, I wished that the bullies would stop, and in high school, I was still wishing that the bullies would stop. Point being, every year, I hoped for the better.

The summer before my junior year, possibly the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me happened. I listened to this song that a big-time blogger said was “bound to blow up”. I became addicted. I listened to every song by the artist on repeat, and even though they were catchy pop songs, there seemed to be some bigger meaning behind them. I not only liked the music, but I liked what the artist stood for - accepting yourself as you are. For someone to tell me, even indirectly, that I was worth something, that the bullies didn’t define me, that every mean thing any boy had ever said to me didn’t matter… that was beautiful. I had found ‘a freak like me’ who had walked in my shoes and embraced herself for who she was.

Things still were rough, even though I had this new-found sense of self. Every day was a challenge. I saw all the other girls holding hands with their boyfriends, going on dates, going places with their friends, and I didn’t have that - no one wanted to hang out with me, and at the time, I blamed it on myself; I mean, why else would everyone act like I was ugly and miserable, right? In my mind, I wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me, either. I mean, I was a loser. I finally found acceptance, I had thought, only to have it ripped away. I became suicidal, and came seconds away from taking my life. I remember the exact knife, the exact spot in the kitchen. No one was home, so I was going to make this easy for everyone - I’d be dead and gone in a matter of minutes. Then, I heard the garage door go up, and I was saved. Somehow, God had made sure that my parents got home when they did. My parents didn’t know what I had planned on until months after, and the idea still lived on in my mind, but I never told anyone, and that hurt lived on inside of my for months and months, making me so sensitive to what anyone might say.

My senior year, things were better. I wasn’t really getting picked on, because if anyone said anything to me, I gave it right back to them, but it wasn’t making me happy, it was only making me even more depressed. Acting the way I did toward others - even though I was defending myself - took a toll on my heart. Everyone suddenly acknowledged me, but not in the way I had always wanted them to. I fell head over heels for this guy who I thought was awesome, but said I wasn’t popular enough for him to be with. I still didn’t get over him. Then, when he decided I’d be okay to have sex with, but not to date, I had had enough. I wasn’t that kind of girl, and I never would be. That’s when I realized that I was better than all of my bullies, than all of my demons, than all of those boys who had ever called me ugly or made fun of me. You might wonder why I said that I realized that I was better than them, because, aren’t we all equals? No. People that treat others as sub-human because of their own insecurities don’t deserve the same equal treatment that real human beings get. People that are so down on themselves that they have to bully, manipulate, and goad others to feel better are the sub-humans themselves. They don’t deserve my time, your time, or anyone’s time, because they are just that: worthless.

In college, I met people who finally liked me because I was myself. I met my idol. I moved to a new house. I moved out of the hell I call my hometown. I graduated from the hurt of high school. I met my best friends. I had my heart broken. I was finally just like everyone else. No one knew me as the doctor’s daughter anymore. I was student number 023191 and I loved it, and still do. Things have gotten better, but those memories from long ago still exist, but now I know I’m not alone.

This year, I’m still hoping for a better year. There are millions and millions of others out there who are wishing for the same thing that I am, and like me, no matter how many bad and terrible things have happened to them, they have a glimmer of hope. Because of that glimmer of hope, I am able to acknowledge the feelings of others. I feel sorry for my bullies, or the people they were when I knew them. The way I look at it, I don’t know the people that they are now, so why should I still be mad? If anything, I’m glad that they were there. They made me stronger, and they showed me what I never wanted to be. In 2012, let’s drop our insecurities. Let’s show each other how valuable we are. Let’s show the world a glimmer of hope.

-Ali

It’s a new year.

1 note