This is part 2 to #49. I didn’t know that I could write a long one🤷🏼‍♀️ so I was bullied from 1st grade to 5th. It was my first year at that school. We had just moved. It was really hard because I had just left my best friend. But I got used to it. I have had anxiety since as long as I can remember. So my first day of school was normal. Didn’t talk to anyone. But as the days passed, people started talking to me. Which I was not used to because at my old school I was never talked to be anyone really. And I started to play with kids. And then they started to get mean. Gradually they started to say hurtful things as joke. But again, I got used to it. 2nd grade my dad gets orders to be deployed. Which was really hard because he was my rock. My anxiety got worse because I constantly thought we would get a call saying he got hurt. The thought of him dying while he was gone NEVER left my mind. But I had to push past and live my life. Sometimes during class I would have an anxiety attack or a panic attack. That’s when people would trade me because of how my mind worked. It lasted all year. In 3rd grade these kids became more brutal. I still had anxiety attacks and panic attacks but I learned to mask them. My dad came home in October of 3rd grade. I wish I could say my anxiety got better but it only got worse. It got harder and harder to mask the way I was feeling. Then kids would tell me to kill myself. They made fun of everything about me. Things I couldn’t control. They would put sticky notes on my back that said horrible things on them. I kept them and put them in a pencil case. One day when I had over 20 notes in the case, I went to the principal. I told her about the things they would say and do. They would trip me and pull my hair.  I told her that I was considering the things that they had told me to do. But she told me that I was a liar, wrote the notes myself, and that she couldn’t do anything because I was too young to feel that way. That day was picture day. So I went and got my picture taken. Then the kids called me ugly and gross and that I should kill myself or they’d do it for me. So when I went home, I tried. I can’t remember how I tried to do it but I failed. No one was home so nobody found out. But that meant that I’d have to live with the fact that I tried to do something so horrible and completely failed. I went to school the next day. And everything just got worse from then on. Skip to 4th grade. Everything was still the same. Even though I had thoughts of suicide more often it was merely a replay of the year before. My suicide attempt count went very high that year. But nobody ever found out so it was okay. If my mom ever asked if I was okay I’d smile and say yes. In 5th grade my depression and anxiety got really bad. O didn’t know what to do to cope so I started to pull out my hair. We got therapy for that but I lied and said it worked so we wouldn’t have to spend money on it. I stopped going to the therapy. But I had pulled out all the hair on my upper crown. It drove me crazy. I didn’t know how to cope. I came home crying everyday. I cut myself off from the world. I became anorexic. At the end of the year, my mom decided to homeschool me and my siblings. I still have dreams of them tormenting me. I heard their voices in my mind. It’s constant, like I’m still there. I started cutting myself last year. It wasn’t visible to anyone unlike the hair pulling. That hasn’t gotten any better. But other things have gotten a little better. I don’t have as many night terrors. But they still happen. But my anxiety attacks and panic attacks still happen every single day. I wish that they knew what they did to me. I wish they knew that I tried what they told me. I wish they knew that because of them I hurt myself. But I would never wish them to feel they way I feel, to want to die, to feel ugly, to not ever eat.

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